


Lance of Marmora

by avagueidea



Series: Making Slav Proud: A Series of AUs [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All the bonding moments!, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blade of marmora lance, Cryptid Keith, Gen, I took this AU concept and just kept running with it, Lance and Allura BFFing, Pidge Hunk and Keith are best squad, blade of marmora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 99,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avagueidea/pseuds/avagueidea
Summary: Blade of Marmora Lance AU!The Blade of Marmora have received intelligence that the Galra Emprie has found one of the Lions of Voltron. They can't risk letting all five fall into enemy hands. Convinced they have no option but to be more proactive in the war, they follow a lead to Earth, but they aren't the first to find the Lion hidden there.Meanwhile, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge still have their personal missions, which it turns out all have the same goal. They have to scrap together some way to make it into space to find answers, as well as their loved ones.Bonus: Allura finds herself greeted by ears she finds even more hideous than Lance's.





	1. Keith Spotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lance goes hunting for the mysterious and illusive desert dwelling cryptid, Keith._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control......  
> But I think Slav would be proud to see me documenting a diverging timeline, right??

        The whole situation was absurd. Even Lance knew that. He’d already snuck half way across the desert by the time he _accepted_ that fact, though. So, it was too late to turn back. He’d committed to tracking down his Rival™ and that’s what he’d done… apparently.

        It all started with a Keith Spotting. The concept of ‘Keith Spotting’ had become a common pastime for recruits on training missions. If the Garrison marched a bunch of boys out into the hot dusty expanses of barren wasteland around the academy, they were going to make whatever fun they could out of it. The past year, since the training school’s shocking loss of the most promising up and coming pilot since Takashi Shirogane himself, the game had started up.

        Lance wasn’t sure how legit the rumors of why Keith left the school were. It was claimed he had dropped out after he threatened the principle. This supposedly was with a giant hunter’s knife and after he refused to let Keith take a semester off for ‘reasons’ and come back with all his scholarships. The myth went on to say that after he was escorted off the base, he hadn’t accepted any ride back to civilization. Instead he was last officially seen with a backpack and an overstuffed duffle bag, walking into the west and disappearing into the setting sun, like something out of a movie.

        And people called Lance dramatic.

        Since his disappearance, no official news came about him. So, naturally, it was assumed that he just wandered off in the desert never to come out again. It became the running joke to spot Keith and bring back updates on what he was up to for the boys. The sightings always had him doing something ridiculous. February 17th he was seen on the Southern Dunes doing wicked rad wheelies on a hover bike. August 27th he snuck into camp during lunch and replaced everyone’s water with Four Loko to help them ‘power through the march home’. November 6th he was seen in the desert fist fighting a cactus. The stories went on. One third year was particularly adamant he saw him in the little, one road town on the other side of Route 375, loading up 100 cans of soup onto his desert skimmer.

        Despite the ridiculous nature of the rumors, it didn’t stop some people from taking this new cryptid seriously. There was a small but serious Keith fan club who had quickly turned into the Keith Sightings Club after his disappearance. Their claims weren’t any less ridiculous, but they were better documented.

        It was funny at first. It didn’t take long for it to get old, though. Lance was sick of hearing about Keith even after he was gone. He was already reminded constantly by the teachers that he was only bumped up the spot necessary to get into the Piloting Program because Keith dropped out. Then he couldn’t even get peace from constant chatter about Keith in the dorms. It was maddening. He wasn’t even there anymore and he was still the most talked about guy in the garrison.

        That was probably what drove Lance out in the dry, chocking heat and to this dusty patch of nothingness. There wasn’t even the faintest sign of civilization in any direction anymore. Unless the little shack Lance was staring at could be counted as ‘civilization’. Lance didn’t think so. He supposed the rocking chair on the porch was a homey touch. The whole shack was barely the size of a Galaxy Garrison freshmen dorm room, and there was a weird concrete box with a half-sized door off to the side. No, this wasn’t civilization.

        He’d found the place by following the only credible sounding lead he’d heard in months. A first year, who’d been practically raised on the rise and fall of Keith as mythology, claimed he’d seen him on a tour of the school early in the semester. He’d spotted him through his newly issued tactical binoculars while they were stopped for a moment at the far west end of the training grounds. He spotted Keith driving out further west. He’d claimed he’d seen a speck of something he was driving towards.

        Usually Lance did his best to ignore these sort of rumors, but they’d been growing from good fun to an almost religious fervor and it was making Lance sick. When he heard how well the first year, who had never met or even seen Keith, described his jacket, his hair, and his reckless driving style, Lance was surprised. Why would the first year know Keith pulled one leg up onto the seat when he was driving casually, like a fucking tool. People in the same year as them hadn’t even noticed until Lance had complained about it. Then they’d thought it was cool… of course.

        He’d dragged the kid out right then and there, as the sun was setting. Curfew be damned. He made the kid show him where he’d seen Keith, the direction he was going and where he thought he saw his destination.

        That was how he’d ended up wasting his free day trudging through the desert, hoping Hunk kept his cover story straight if there was a surprise inspection. It was also how he ended up at the door, not sure if he should even knock. Lance considered for a moment before he pushed his way in, bravado covering for his nerves. He considered maybe no one even lived in the shack. How could anyone live so far in the middle of nowhere?

         “Hey!” he called as he entered.

        He received no reply, but it was clear that someone _was_ living there. There was a ratty old couch with an equally sad looking blanket tossed over it and a makeshift table set up on misaligned cinder blocks. A spoon stuck out of an open unlabeled can, really there were a lot of cans. Maybe that ‘100 cans of soup’ Keith sighting wasn’t entirely made up. The rest of the room was cluttered with boxes and stacked up computer bits and machines that served no clear purpose, at least not stacked as they were. The mostly sheer curtains looked duct taped up, haphazardly draped over the windows.

        The most eye catching feature, though, was the giant, crazy conspiracy theory corkboard. Strings connected pictures and articles and messily scribbled notes pinned across a huge map of the desert area for miles around, made up with excruciating detail. It was like something out of a crime drama. It was unreal.

        Lance stood and stared at it, trying to make heads or tails of what conspiracy it was trying to theorize about. He was so engrossed he didn’t realize the owner of the shack had come home until there was a knife to his neck and his arm was twisted behind his back. Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He forgot how to even breath for a moment.

         “Who are you?” Keith’s far too serious voice snarled into his ear. Lance was used to Keith seeming too intense, but this was going too far. Who did he think he was, batman? It was so over the top.

         “Holy hell. It’s _me_ , Lance!” he gasped out after the moment of shock passed and his mind moved on to being indignant at the assault. It’s not like Keith would _actually_ kill him. There was a pause.

         “Who?” Keith asked.

         “ _Who_?” Lance asked, turning his head despite the threat of being sliced open. “You know! Lance! As in, Keith and Lance, neck in neck. You’re _rival_?” he snapped. After Keith got a good look at him, he seemed to deem him not a threat. He pulled the knife away and let go of his arm. Lance stumbled forward. Maybe the threatening the principle with a knife thing was real too. Mythological Keith was getting some major validations.

         “My rival?” Keith asked, his brow scrunching up in confusion as he stowed his knife back in its holster on the back of his belt. Lance eyed him as he did. Rubbing his shoulder, he did all he could not to yell at Keith how dumb a place that was to keep his knife. It didn’t even look super cool or anything when he snapped it back into place. Not even a little.

         “Yes. What? Has the sun baked your brains out here?” Lance asked, rolling his eyes. Keith just stared back at him intently for a long, unnerving moment.

         “Oh, right… the cargo pilot,” he said. Lance fumed. He was about to throw a comeback at him, about how he wasn’t just a cargo pilot anymore since Keith burnt out! He was cut off by an immediate addition of, “leave.” Lance jumped away from the hand that reached out for him.

         “Woah! Hold your horses, drop out,” he said as he spun around and looked pointedly at the board. “I got some questions,” he informed with a grand gesture at the board. Keith bristled as soon as the board was acknowledged and grabbed Lance’s arm sharply, trying to turn him away from it. Lance twisted out of the hasty grip. He knew how to at least avoid being pinned down, if having so many rowdy cousins didn’t do any other good for him.

        Lance plopped himself down on the couch with intentional casualness. He scooped up a notebook from under him to flip through. It was covered in such horrible chicken scratch he probably wouldn’t have been able to read it even if it hadn’t been snatched out of his hand in a moment.

         “Don't touch that.” Lance gave up the notebook, as if he were already done with it. He hopped back up. He pulled at some paper still attached to one of the strange machines.  “Don't touch that,” Keith repeated. He tore the paper away from him and the machine in a violent gesture.

        Lance gently stepped back putting his hands up. “Alright. Alright. Calm down, man,” he said in a voice, mockingly soft, like Keith was a wild animal to sooth. Keith shot him a glare, but turned to scan the room for anything Lance might have messed with before he’d gotten there. He didn’t realize he’d only been there a few minutes longer than him.

        Lance looked back at the board, not touching it to avoid Keith tackling him. His eye caught on a single blue string, pinned at it’s far end by a darker blue tack. Blue had always been his favorite color, so maybe that was why his eye was drawn to it. His gaze wandered a little, trailing over the whole board, then stepping back to look at the whole thing. He blinked and for a split second all the pins seemed to mean something, say something.

        Then it was gone again. He frowned and glanced at Keith. He was checking all his notebooks and piles of paper were still intact. Lance stole his way up to the board, his eyes darting from the blue pin up, to a large photo of a set of cliffs. What had it all looked like a second ago? Everything seemed to point to the pin attached to this picture a second ago. Its location was in the middle of nowhere, though so was this shack, so that really didn’t make it special.

        While Keith wasn’t looking he quickly snatched up a pen. Next to the pin was coordinates. After a few quick circles to get the ink running, he scribbled down the longitude and latitude on the palm of his hand. He tossed the pen aside and scooted away from the board just as Keith turn back around. He got a heavy, suspicious look, but he couldn't find anything going on, so he relented.

         “So why are you here?” he asked.

         “Why, isn’t it obvious? To pay tribute to the great and awesome Keith,” Lance replied with biting sarcasm. Keith’s face was so blank, Lance faltered. “Look, you disappeared into the desert. Did you think no one would find you?” he asked.

         “I hoped they’d mind their own business,” he grumbled back, but he didn’t seem angry, more irritated with himself.

         “I know you like the ‘mysterious guy’ vibe or whatever, but you should really think about losing the mullet if you’re trying to be cool,” Lance said. He realized he wasn’t sure what he had planned to do when he found Keith, bane of his existence. Apparently, it was just to insult his hair.

        After a long pause and a sigh, he replied “Just get out of here.”

         “What sort of host are you? I come all the way out here to your desert shack and you don’t even offer me a drink?” Lance said with a frown.

         “Just go back to the Garrison!” Keith insisted again, seeming to be moving from confused back to annoyed. “Go back where you belong.”

        It was strange that the words stung so much. He might have taken it as a compliment from anyone else, but not from Keith. Keith had always been the one that belonged, not Lance. Lance was the substitute, the one who barely scrapped by and worked his ass off to compensate. It had always been Keith that was top of the class. Keith that was favorite of all the teachers. Keith that picked everything up like it was nothing. Then he threw it all away just as easily. Now here was Keith trying to say Lance was more than a begrudged resident of that place. He clenched the numbers written on his palm and could only hope after that sweat and anger wouldn’t turn the ink into indecipherable smears. He was too pissed to care at that moment.

         “Fine,” Lance finally said after a tense standoff. Keith hadn’t backed down, though he seemed to have no idea what Lance was so serious about. Forcing a casual air, he spun around to leave. He was careful to hold his hand to hide the numbers stolen from the crazy conspiracy theory board as he went, using that hand to open the door, to keep the palm out of sight then shoving it in his pocket.

        Keith showed him to the door, it seemed mostly to keep him from touching anything on his way. In a surprisingly kind gesture, after their tense meeting, he handed him a water canteen and pointed him in the right direction to get back to the Garrison. He didn’t seem confident that Lance would be able to figure out north from south and east from west otherwise. It wasn’t like he’d gotten all the way there himself or anything.

 

        Lance did go back to the Garrison, but only to collect up supplies. While he was at it he left Hunk a note saying that he needed him to cover for him the next day because they had class. It wasn’t important class, but he’d still need an excuse. Hunk would just say he was sick, because he was a good friend. He would probably just assume Lance needed a break from Commander Iverson. That would never be _un_ true at the very least.

        The next day before class and before daybreak, Lance planned to set out, but not on foot this time. Keith’s shack was a long hike and he had gotten back far after curfew. He had expertly avoided getting in terrible, of course. Okay, so he knew that the spectacled nerd had the cameras off in the third sector between 1 and 3am every night the past month. Still, he _knew_ that, fact and used it. Espionage was about information collection just as much as stealth.

        He wouldn’t be able to make the hike all the way out to the stolen coordinates without assistance, this time. Unless Hunk could cover for him for a week. He needed a lift, and he knew who to go to for some super-secret access codes. The very same guy who’d unknowingly gotten him in safe.

         “Pidge! My man!” Lance said loudly, shoving his way into the bespectacled boys room. Lance wasn’t worried about the time. He was pretty sure Pidge didn’t sleep anyway. His head was stuffed in his laptop, like usual, headphones blocking out all sound. Lance would have thought with all the sketchy stuff he was up to he’d want to be more aware of his surroundings. He didn’t seem concerned in the least. Weird kid. Freshmen usually were, though.

        Pidge didn’t look up, so Lance strode forward and reached for the side of his headphones. Before he could try again to get Pidge’s attention, he had it. A hand shot up to stop his.

         “Touch my headphones and you’ll lose a hand,” he said without even looking away from the screen.

         “Okay, yeesh. Why is everyone so touchy about me touching their stuff recently,” Lance grumbled, pulling his hand away and waiting as Pidge finished typing something and snap his laptop shut. He pushed the headphones down and stared at Lance, expectantly.

         “I got a deal for you, my little tech gremlin,” Lance said, beaming. Pidge gave him a once over then crossed his arms.

         “What do you have for me?” Pidge asked, not bothering to be insulted by the title.

         “Commander Iverson’s personal computer passwords. Now, I don’t know how you’d get his personal laptop, but you are a resourceful young lad and I’m sure you could find a way,” Lance said with an easy shrug. Pidge seemed skeptical.

         “How exactly did you get Iverson’s passwords?” he asked.

         “Generally being a genius,” Lance replied, “How else?”

         “Riiiiiight,” Pidge dragged out the word, eyeing him hard. “And what exactly do you think these passwords are worth?”

         “Skimmer checkout codes and five minutes of surveillance blackout on the west gate,” he replied. Pidge raised an eyebrow.

         “Steep price,” he said.

         “Personal laptop,” Lance replied. Pidge stared him down, trying to judge if he was trustworthy or not. He turned back to his computer then, but the headphones didn’t go back up. That was a yes. Lance grinned and did a brief victory shimmy.

         “Skimmer C2439 security code 32429. When are you leaving?” Pidge asked, glancing up.

         “Ten minutes,” Lance replied.

         “Done,” Pidge said. “You’re cleared for ten in ten.”

         “Wow, that easy. Won’t the blackout be suspicious?” he asked, though he probably shouldn’t question the tech gremlin’s methods, now that he thought about it.

         “Nah, I have a bug running through to make them think it’s just a technical problem. They’d be suspicious if all their cameras worked at this point,” Pidge scoffed.

         “You tricksy little hobbit,” Lance replied. The comment got him a blank look, which was ridiculous, seeing as how Pidge had the classic nerd thing to a T. There was no way he hadn’t read Lord of the Rings at some point in his nerdy life.

         “Passwords?” Pidge prompted.

         “Rover is a good boy 2. All one word, no spaces, each word capitalized, 2 is the number not spelled out,” Lance replied.

         “RoverIsAGoodBoy2?” Pidge repeated back. “How did you get this information again?”

         “I’m a genius,” he replied, then paused, “And he had a sticky note on the picture of his dog in his office that said “I’m a good boy #2” on it,” he tagged on. He might have felt bad snooping in someone’s office, but Iverson had brought him in to ‘consider his options’, which meant dropping the program. He hadn’t even gotten all the way through that speech when he walked out to discuss lunch with the secretaries. Lance quitting wasn’t even worth his time, let alone his success. Lance figured he might as well get something out of the trip.

         “And you checked it worked?” He asked, stopping Lance from having too much time to fall back into bitterness.

         “Of course.” Pidge nodded, seeming to believe him.

         “Good doing business with you,” Pidge said. They shook hands and parted ways.

        Yeah, the Gunderson kid was weird, but useful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this might be a ten chapter affair, to get out all I have outlined at least. We'll see though! Knowing me it'll end up even bigger, hahaha
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Lance goes out on an adventure and gets more than he bargained for...


	2. Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lance finds out what's under the blue pin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting and all that good stuff ♥~ Honestly, you guys' comments give me life!!  
> I hope you guys have as much fun with this fic as I'm having writing it!!

        It took a little more courage than Lance expected to use the codes. He’d made it into the garage covertly, but standing there next to skimmer C2439, he questioned the whole plan. What was he even doing this for? There were a lot of pins on that board, why did he have to get to this particular site?  Why did he even care what Keith was doing in his sad little shack in the desert all alone?

        It didn’t matter why, or even if he cared anymore, though. He already traded for the codes, and it would be a waste to give up such valuable currency for nothing. He was at the point of no return. He’d paid for an adventure, and he was going to have it.

        Getting out was easy enough. For being a military base, Lance found he never had trouble sneaking around. It all fit into his theory that he would make a great 007 style spy. He had the suaveness. He looked great in a suit. He could break in and out of military complexes. He just needed the ability to knock people out with a single cheesy looking karate chop and he was there. This is what he thought about as he sailed over the miles upon miles of desert. He planned his adventures as a super spy, saving the world and charming sexy enemy operatives.

        It was nearly sunrise by the time he slowed to a stop. He glanced down at his Galaxy Garrison standard issue position device. He was close. He went on by foot. The coordinates had brought him to a big rock. Well, a plateau, technically. He walked forward, his long shadow disappearing over the edge and vanishing into the shadowy depths of the valley as he stepped up to the edge. He stared, trying to decide what was here. He checked his location again. He was the exact coordinates listed, his toes right against the sheer drop off. It didn't look different than any other random desert plateau in the morning light.

        The sun rising slowly behind him, he leaned out further. In the quiet of the morning, completely alone, Lance suddenly felt small. There weren’t cadets running around him in a bustle to get to the mess hall, or the rush of impending doom that came with hitting the snooze one too many times and knowing he’d be late. He wasn’t surrounded by a thousand other people, the clamor of cadets. It was just Lance and the fading stars and pale moon disappearing as the sun rose brighter and brighter behind him.

        Then he heard the slight howl of wind rushing below him. Lance dropped down onto his stomach and leaned further out over the ledge. Hanging himself over, he tried to get a look at the underside of the cliff before all the blood rushed to his head. He pushed himself back and hopped up. He thought, in the deep shadowy area still hidden by the morning light, that he saw a cave cutting into the wall of rock far below.

        It took another 20 minutes to get into the valley. When he’d scrambled his way down, Lance found himself face-to-face with a large open cavern, drenched in shadows. The sun was still too low in the east to shed any light under the shadow of the plateau above. So, he turned the head lights on the gloom. At once he could see that it went deep, and carvings coated the cavern from floor to ceiling. They looked ancient, but well preserved, cut deep and cleanly.

        He inspected them as he stepped into the cave, leaning around his own long shadow to get a clear look. They seemed to be repeats of the same thing; a bulky segmented cat like thing and a thing that looked like a giant robot from one of his Saturday morning cartoons, but maybe it was supposed to be a human. He wondered if this was some sort of god that turned from a cat to a man. Or maybe some ancient artist just really had a thing for cats.

        As he wandered deeper, looking over the cave covered in art, he wondered how no archeologists had come here and scouted all this out. If it was as old as it looked, it should be the sort of thing archeologist would fight each other for the rights to study. Why would it be ignored. Sure, it was in the middle of nowhere in an uninhabitable (except for Keith) wasteland. That had never stopped nerds from studying things before. If nerds would go up into space to nerd it up, they certainly could deal with at little dry heat and sand.

        Lance ran his hand over one of the carvings at eye level, fitting his fingers into the grooves of the stone, trying to determine if it really was as old as it looked to him. Then it started glowing. Lance yanked his fingers back protectively. The light rushed out from where he’d touched it.

         “Woah!” He shouted to himself as his eyes shot around the cavern. The headlights were no longer necessary to light the cave. The blue shot from carving to carving, filling the entire wall and ceiling with shockingly bright lines. His eyes were soon trailing down and below his feet. Blue light erupted underneath him. “Oh shi-!”

        It was too late. The floor crackled apart under his feet and he was sent down a ramp of slippery, cold stone. He was flung down into an even larger cavern, cool air indicating he was deeper underground now. He groaned and stood himself up, but his soreness was overshadowed by the sight ahead of him. The new room didn’t have carvings glowing up the walls, but it didn’t need their help for light. In front of him, surrounded by an orb of hexagonical interlocking blue lines, was the real life version of the carvings. A huge cat. It was gigantic, multiple stories of giant metal cat.

         “Whaaaaat is thiiiis?” he said to himself in a hushed tone of wonder. He almost felt like laughing. An actual giant cat, like a small building’s worth of blue and white lion. It was absurd. Who would make this? Who would leave this here? What was Keith’s connection?

        He walked forward and as he did he glanced up to the metal statue’s face. Its yellow eyes were one solid color, but, somehow, it still looked like it was staring at him. He tried to look away, but he was drawn back to those eyes. After a moment, he started walking sideways one way, then the other.

         “You watching me, buddy?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. His zigzagging path forward became wider, eyes locked into on the lion’s. “Yeeeah, you are definitely watching me,” he decided as he reached the glowing orb surrounding it. He stopped and craned his neck to look up at the bottom of its chin. He almost expected it to turn its giant head down. It didn’t.

        Lance considered the large shimmering wall now in front of him. Between the bright blue lines was a sheer, blueish haze of a forcefield. At least he assumed it was a forcefield. He wished someone else was there to try it out first, to see if it was dangerous. He looked back at the hole he’d fallen through. Water still trickled down and he remembered the near vertical drops he’d experienced at moments. He wasn’t too confident he could get back up that way. He glanced around the large cavern and didn’t see any exits off hand.

         “Well, it looks like you’re my only hope, Beautiful,” he said. There was no response. “Don’t be cold, babe. I saw you watching me from across the room. I promise I’ll be nice,” he said in his best pickup line voice. “Just let me in,” he requested. He lifted his hand and knocked lightly against the energy. Luckily it didn’t zap him. Instead, it felt solid and rung lightly under his knuckles.

        Before Lance could get another set of pickup lines out, there was a burst of light. From where he’d touched the shield, the blue haze started to dissolve away until it disappeared entirely. Then the Lion moved. It stood up and a roared as it threw its head back. There was a flash of colors that Lance tried to blink away, until he realized he wasn’t seeing it with his eyes. He witnessed, burned directly into his memory, five lights, trailing after four more of these robots. They sailed up together in perfect unison, each trailing their own color, but the other’s seemed faded. Only blue felt bright and vivid. The other’s felt like dull shadows of what they could be. Dulled or not, the five came together and a fuzzy image formed.

        The figure was human like, and he remembered the carvings from moments ago. Something robotic and humanoid. These things made an even _bigger_ robot? There were more? Where they all in this cave? Could he gather them up?

        His mind was cluttered with questions, but the blue lion was leaning his head down and opening its mouth. Lance glanced around then smirked. Okay, so this thing could move, it could fly, and it made a giant rad power ranger robot dude. He was into that.

        Lance half jogged himself up the ramp. He felt oddly smug, for having no audience to impress. Still, he’d found this before Keith, and it had accepted him. He didn’t know why that mattered to him, but it did. He strolled his way into the cockpit, full of glowing lights and buttons and levers. It felt right. It felt like this giant robot _wanted_ him here, not just anyone, but _him._

        Lance settled into the pilot’s chair and reached his hands out to the controls. As soon as his fingers wrapped around them he felt a rush, and then a sense of peace. He sighed, a tension draining from him that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding on to. It was like coming home. He felt more accepted in this cockpit than he ever had at the Garrison. He felt like he was meant to be here.

        The lion was in its feet and moving. Lance started, confused, as he hadn’t actually done anything except hold the controls.

         “Woah! Woah, woah! Where are we going beautiful? Let’s take things slow! It’s just you and me,” he said, cooing at the controls. He tried to pull and tug at them to make the lion stop. It didn’t pay him any attention. It had already decided on a path. It crashed through a thin wall, which turned out to be barely a sheet of stone. It was then chasing the light that was burning far down the tunnel beyond.

        They burst out into the full light of morning, the lion finding its way into the valley Lance had come down into. Even though he had no say over where they were going, he felt like the lion’s excitement was seeping into him. Together they relished a freedom they both had needed desperately. They breathed in the new day and sailed into the air. Higher and higher and Lance accepted it, stretching his arms out and taking in just air and sky around him. Just air and sky and—whatever the hell that big dark hovering thing they just shot past was.

        Lance’s head shot around and his fingers flew forward to try to pull up rear cameras to get a glimpse at whatever it is they had just shot by. It hadn’t looked like any ship he’d ever seen before. Just as he got the camera’s up on the screen, he was thrown forward. He caught hard on the safety belts and fell back into his seat. He took a half a moment to thank his mom for ingraining ‘put your seat belt on or this car isn’t moving’ into the fabric of his being. He would have flown right out of his seat and possibly through the front screen otherwise when his lion was jerked to a halt.

        The dark mass was moving back into his sight as both the ship moved up and Blue slowed down. The sleek grey form of the craft he was faced with felt almost non-descript, except it was the sleekest looking ship Lance had ever seen. It hovered with glowing blue engines and it seemed to have Blue in some sort of tractor beam, holding her in place.

        The transparent screen flickered with a communication notification. He wasn’t sure how he knew that was what it was, but he did. His fingers flew to accept it. Lance stared at the face he was greeted with, or the lack there of.

        A masked figure appeared on his screen, three bright, indigo lights peered at him through a deep black and gray mask. They gleamed out from under a dark hood. Behind it was only shadows.

         “Surrender the Leg of Voltron,” a deep voice demanded.

         “The _what_?” Lance blurted back, his voice cracking under the strain and confusion. There was the briefest of glances to the side, barely noticeable except Lance was hyper focusing on this crazy looking dude. “Look! Just let go of my ship and I’ll-,” Lance was trying to put on a reasonable voice but the masked guy cut him off. Rude.

         “Surrender the Lion,” he said. That was a little more clear. Okay.

         “Alright, slow down buddy. Let’s talk this out,” Lance said, shifting in his seat and trying to pretend he knew how to be diplomatic.

         “There are only two answers. Yes, and we take the vessel. No, and we destroy you and the stolen vessel,” the masked guy said with such certainty and sincerity that Lance felt a prickle of fear run down his spine.

         “Hey! I didn’t steal it or anything! Okay? She just opened up and started flying us up here! So, I don’t know what you want me to do!” Lance burst, panic rising as he realized, yeah, it probably looked like he was stealing this. Maybe these guys owned it. Shit. This was not good.

        When the masked guy glanced to the side this time he didn’t try to hide it. All traces of background noise disappeared from the transmission. He wasn’t supposed to listen to whatever they were talking about. Lance felt sweat creeping down the back of his neck. What had he been thinking? Getting into some weird wall carving ancient god robot thing? He was insane. He was clearly insane and now these mask guys were gonna blow him up for getting into their sacred Lion Robot God. He was so screwed. He—

         “Land the Lion of Voltron and we will help extract you,” the voice ordered. Lance let out a breath.

         “Yeah. Yeah sure okay!” he said in a rush, grinning. It was only after he agreed that he realized his error. The moment the tractor beam was released, Blue shot back towards the sky.

         “CRAAAP!” Lance shouted and his hands shot to the controls. Redial. There had to be a redial! They were going to shoot him out of the sky because Blue just wanted to go UP. Great! Where was the redial.

        Lance slammed his hand onto the screen and the face popped up. It looked angry despite absolutely no features showing. Lance started shouting before the guy could make any accusations or assumptions.

         “STOP ME! STOP ME. I CAN’T STOP THE LION. PLEASE I’M NOT RUNNING!” Lance insisted in a loud shout. The posture of the masked guy went from outraged to intent. He saw him gesturing. Lance was yanked to a stop once again.

         “We will maintain the tractor beam until we have secured you from the lion,” the guy said. Lance nodded, too out of breath to respond further.

        It took a while. Blue fought and for a moment it seemed like she would win. In fact, Lance was pretty sure she could have. Then he said “please” and she paused. He felt relief rush over him as she let herself be lowered down and landed. Whatever preprogrammed flight was going on, she paused it and that was good enough for Lance. He thanked her, because politeness seemed to be programmed into her commands.

        It took even longer for her to let Lance out. He knocked on the door, asked her to lower her head, maybe open up? It wasn’t until she’d fully sat down and put her barrier back up that she finally lowered her head and opened her mouth. Even still, it felt like she was reluctant to let Lance out.

        Lance knew he was probably personifying this robot too much. It had some serious attitude to it, though, so it was hard for him not to give it some personality to go with. She was a protective mama bear sort. Well, mama lion. She liked to follow rules when she could, but wasn’t afraid to compromise for the greater good, in this case Lance and her not getting blown out of the sky.  She also held to her decisions when she made them. That was the personality Lance gave her. He was growing rather fond of that personality too.

        Lance strode up to the edge of the barrier as the sleek, dark ship landed and a handful of similarly clad dark figures came out. They were all in special ops, black suits with blue glowing stripes that, Lance didn’t really know, highlighted their figures? They all looked huge and buff. As they neared he realized just how huge and buff they really were. They barely looked human. Then a tail swished behind one of them.

         “Are you aliens?!” Lance shouted, completely unable to control himself. He pressed to the barrier to get a closer look. He hadn’t even let them get out a greeting, or threat depending on their mood after this whole debacle.

        The guy he had spoken to earlier, he had lovingly dubbed him ‘night vision goggles’, exchange glances with his other masked companions. They seemed to consider this question. “As you are a terrestrial being local to this planet, then yes. Have your people not encountered aliens before?”

         “What? No way! You’re kidding me?” Lance said, excitement rising above terror. “Do you all have tails?”

         “No,” night vision goggles said simply. Tails didn’t even react to the question. They were a stoic bunch.

         “Cool. Cool. So, where are you guys from?” he asked.

         “Lower the shields and hand over the lion,” night vision goggles said. He was the no nonsense sort.

         “Oh, yeah, I’m not doing the shield stuff, Blue is,” he said glancing back over his shoulder.

         “Then have the robot lower them.” NVG was getting serious.

         “Okay, look,” he started, leaning casually onto one arm pressed above his head onto the forcefield. “I don’t really know what’s going on here, so I’m gonna have to default on the cautious side.” There was a contemplative silence that followed.

         “We mean you no harm. The Lion must be recovered at all costs, but we would prefer for it to be given freely,” he said. There didn’t seem to be any malice in his voice. For as seriously unfun as he sounded, he also sounded sincere.

         “Look,” Lance said, “I don’t actually think I have any say on the force field. She’s a little protective,” he admitted. “But, I mean, she let me in when I knocked so… maybe try that?” he offered with a shrug. He pushed off the force field and took a step back, gesturing for him to give it a shot.

        NVG stepped up to the shield and gave it a firm knock. It reverberated through the blue hazy hexagon he hit. Nothing happened. “It is not opening. Turn off the shield,” he said, jumping right back into inpatience.

         “Look. I really don’t know how,” Lance insisted. “And you’re not selling me on why I should with that tone.”

        NVG tensed, but another figure stepped up before he could speak. He was leaner, but taller, still bizarrely huge. He pulled off his mask and he was purple. Honest to god purple. His ears were pointed and his hair was in a light mohawk. His eyes were just as bright a yellow as the giant robotic lion’s.

         “I am Ulaz. We are members of the Blade of Marmora,” he explained, his voice even and deep. Lance had no idea what any of that meant, but he spoke it like he was giving privileged information. He even had to lay a hand on his buddy’s shoulder to reassure him. He then stared at him until Lance finally realized it was his turn to speak. He was too busy being shocked. This guy was _purple_.

         “Uh, hi, I’m Lance… McClain… of the Galaxy Garrison?” he offered. He was unsure if that was sufficient. It probably meant as little to the guy as ‘blade of marmalade’ did to him, so he supposed they were even there.

         “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lance,” he said. “We do not have a lot of time, Lance. We are a covert operation and if your people know anything about us, it will put them in danger as well as ourselves.” He put up a hand when Lance tried to ask what he meant. “We are fighting against a very dangerous enemy, who have already been spotted in this sector. The only reason they would be here is because of this ship,” he said, tapping the shield above Lance’s head as he pointed towards the Lion Robot.

         “How dangerous?” Lance finally asked, when Ulaz paused.

         “They would destroy this planet and all of its inhabitants for that ship,” he stated. He said it so plainly that Lance felt his stomach drop. The answer felt so real it made everything else, from lion robots to purple dudes, feel real too.

         “What, like just kill all the humans?” Lance asked with a forced scoff. Ulaz was silent. All of them were silent, but he could see Ulaz’s face. He was serous, dead fucking serious. “Why? What’s so important about this thing?” Lance asked.

         “It is part of a weapon,” he replied simply.

         “Yeah, the big robot dude,” Lance said, nodding. Ulaz raised his eyebrows.

         “Where did you learn that?” he asked. The others in the group seemed interested too from their shifting posture. Lance glanced at them nervously.

         “No. Nono. The-when I got to the lion it showed me okay? Like, I saw them all coming together to make the big robot dude,” he explained, hoping that didn’t sound as crazy as it would if he explained that to another human. They seemed to know something about this crazy robot, though, so he couldn’t sound too crazy.

         “A vision?” NVG muttered. Ulaz glanced at him then back to Lance.

         “Can you take down the shield? If you do, we will do what we can to make it clear the ship is not here and they should not pursue the matter further,” he promised. He had a simple honesty to his voice. But maybe Lance just had no idea how to read alien tonal clues saying he was lying through his teeth. He wanted to believe him. Well, he really _didn’t_ want to believe that something super dangerous was coming to wipe out all of humanity. He felt like he _should_ believe him, though.

         “I… really have no idea how. It’s all Blue,” he said, earnestly. He put on an apologetic smile and shrugged.

         “I see…” Ulaz said, glancing up at the giant robot’s head. “Have you asked?” he tried. Lance blinked. After a moment he decided, why the hell not. She’d stopped earlier for a please and thank you. He turned to Blue.

         “Hey, Blue, beautiful. Wanna lower the shield so I can get out?” he asked, staring at the underside of her chin looming protectively over him. There was a pause.

        The shields lowered.

         “Would you look at that,” he said, stepping the two steps forward to meet Ulaz, “So-,” he started, but even as he did the rest of the team was rushing forward. In a flash, the shield was back, Lance now on the other side. The special ops looking guys pinged off it like bouncy balls chucked at a wall. Lance couldn’t help himself; he snorted.

        The whole line up of glowing goggles swiveled to glare at him. He put up his hands, “I swear that was all Blue!” he insisted quickly, putting on a straight face. He could feel their accusation through the masks, but no one voiced it.

         “Will you let us take the ship?” Ulaz asked. “We will leave your planet in peace.”

         “I mean… I don’t own her or anything. I just found her about twenty minutes ago, so…” Lance gestured towards the ship, granting his permission. He didn’t really want to give her up, if he was being honest with himself. It felt like the reasonable thing to do, though. Ulaz nodded gratefully. Lance stepped back to let them take Blue.

        It didn’t go well.

        All of the special ops guys tried to get in. They even knocked and asked at Lance’s suggestion. Nothing. They next tried to get their tractor beam back on her, but with the shield up they couldn’t get a lock anymore. She didn’t even look at them. In fact, the only one she ever seemed to look at was Lance, staring at him expectantly. Like she was waiting for him. Lance felt stupid for thinking that. It was probably just because she had a face, even if it was a lion face. It made him want her to have an opinion about things she certainly didn’t.

         “Lance,” Ulaz said, after many miserably failed attempts to get past the shield, “why don’t you… show us how you got in,” he suggested. Lance felt nervous. All eyes were on him. He should have snuck away while all this crazy stuff was going on. But no, he had to be curious. Now a bunch of giant, gruff aliens were glaring at him and watching his every move.

        Lance swallowed and stepped up to the shield again. He gingerly knocked. “Hey beautiful. Wanna drop your shields and let me in?” he asked.

        She did. She roared then lowered her head and opened her mouth. She waited for him. He felt that smugness again. He knew this was probably not helping the situation in the long run, but it still felt good for something to choose him.

        He gestured for the others to go ahead.

        NVG walked towards the opening. When it was clear that Lance wasn’t the one coming, though, she clammed up. Her mouth shut before he was halfway to her. The alien looked back at Lance, who just shrugged.

        NVG took a few threatening steps towards Lance, but Ulaz interjected before he could make whatever threat was building with each stomp closer to Lance. “It seems,” Ulaz said, moving between them, “That the Blue Paladin has already been chosen.”

        There was a murmur. This was the first time Lance had heard anything suggesting the other three aliens could even talk. He didn’t know what this all meant, but he didn’t like being the center of attention again.

         “Okay, well, you guys have fun figuring out this whole lion… robot thing. I’m gonna, ya know, head out,” he said, making an exaggerated gesture with his thumbs and starting to back away.

         “Lance,” Ulaz said, his voice unyielding. Lance felt his retreat pause. “We need you to pilot this ship.” There was no question there. It was a statement. Not a threat either. Ulaz was not saying they would force him to pilot the lion. He was simply stating a fact.

         “Uhm… Ha, yeah no. I think you got the wrong guy. I can barely not crash a simulator, okay? And that’s just to land on a freaking moon I already know the terrain of. You have the wroooong guy,” Lance explained. He wouldn’t ever have said that under normal circumstanced. He would have told anyone at the garrison he could fly circles around them, even when he was a freight pilot in training, even _with_ his freight ship. He’d have believed it too. Standing here, in front of these very serious people, discussing very serious things, though? He didn’t believe a word of it. He felt sick at the very idea.

         “It is not a point of right and wrong,” Ulaz said simply, “It is a matter of need.” Then he was silent again. They were all silent. And why the hell did he _believe_ them? He had no good reason to believe any of this crazy story, or anything about this crazy cat robot thing, or that he was somehow important or chosen or whatever other bullshit! Panic rose in his heart, and his eyes shot from Ulaz to Blue. Then they were stuck on her.

        Blue was looking at him, head tilted down and everything this time. Her stare was just as steady as the alien’s voice. Neither of them had any doubts. It was just him who was afraid. His heartrate dropped out of the heart attack range, to just the slightly freaked out because the galaxy might need you to help save it range.

        “Okay,” he said. His voice sounded weak and that sounded lame. He swallowed and said it again, better this time. “Okay. All right. Save the galaxy? Sure!” he laughed, and he felt panicked, but he made the laugh into something cocky instead. “Lance McClain is ready to help kick some evil alien butt!” he announced. Because he had to. It was just a fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to start posting my Altaen!Lance AU too... maybe just officially start up a collection of AUs. I have so many of them... lol.
> 
>  **Next Chapter preview** : Hunk is reasonably worried.


	3. Empty Seats: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When Lance doesn't come back to the dorm, Hunk gets worried, and ends up seeking help from strange sources._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for any of you who have read my other work this will be no surprise, but, this chapter ended up much longer than I thought it would! So it's being split into two parts! lol

        Keith still felt the irritation rising back up now and again. He couldn’t keep the thought of his interaction with Lance from popping into his head as he tried to sleep. It kept on as he was heating up his can of soup, and heading out for his morning rounds. It would fade for a time, then wriggle out from the back of his brain into his thoughts and make him growl in frustration.

        It wasn’t that some random guy from The Garrison had found him, though that didn’t speak well to the anonymity he thought he had this far out into the desert. It wasn’t even how rude and annoying he had been. It was that he didn’t _understand_ what was going on. Whenever the interaction came back, it made him grimace to know he had no idea why Lance had been there or why he seemed to hate him so much. None of it made any sense and he already had too many mysteries to solve. He didn’t need to add more to it. That had been part of the reason he’d come out here. He didn’t need weird distractions like _people_.

        He shoved the muddled thoughts into the back of his head and tried to keep them there, tucked away at least for now. He had things to do. He slung his pack over his shoulder and hopped onto his skimmer. He had a trek to make before the morning was out. It was the last in his series of methodical readings he’d been taking of strange power surges over the course of the last three months. They seemed to come in waves and he felt like he was coming close to figuring something out about them. They’d already helped him find a few more of the sites.

        Keith tied a bandana over his nose and mouth and pulled down his goggles. It’d been dry out, and the skimmer had been kicking up more dust than usual from the cracked dry earth. He thought he might get a permanent line of caked on dust in the thin space between the fabric and the goggles, cutting across his nose onto his cheeks.

        Keith was a good 40 miles out from his house, and another 10 from where he planned to get his last reading, when something burst up from near the newest set of carvings he’d found. The sky had just started to get to a full blue color with the rising sun, but it looked pale compared to the bright streak the shot up to the west. For a moment, it looked like four other trails of color went up with the blue, but when he blinked, it was just the one again. What made Keith stop short, though, wasn’t the vivid blue projectile cutting up into the sky. It was the realization that he’d been staring at a large, dark object on the horizon all through the morning and hadn’t even noticed until it started moving, pulling up alongside and stopping the streak of blue.

        Keith stared out at the distant scene. It felt unreal to realize how blatant the gray unidentifiable object in the sky was now. It hadn’t been until the thrusters had moved it to intercept the projectile, he realized he’d been staring at it the whole time without realizing. It hovered over a blue haze he assumed were thrusters. It irritated him that he’d missed it.

        The projectile broke away suddenly and that set Keith in motion again. He was startled out of his daze and, despite not knowing what these things were, he knew he had to get to them. He flew forward even as he watched the blue streak jolted to a halt again and then both lower from the sky. He knew exactly where they were going to be.

        Keith pushed his abused sand skimmer past it’s recommended top speeds. He knew it wasn’t supposed to go faster, but he’d never been one to believe in limits. There was always a little more speed that could be eked out of a machine, and a little more that could be pulled from himself too. Limits were for people who had decided on stopping at a certain point. Keith couldn’t see a stopping point. There was only further, faster. He needed to get to the site, now.

        Keith practically threw himself onto the ground when he’d gotten close. He’d left his skimmer a mile away and sprinted until caution dictated he duck. He leaned himself over the edge of the deep cut in the earth. He knew underneath him was the third, and largest site he’d found yet of the cave drawings. He still didn’t know what they meant, but he was almost certain they had something to do with the power surges he’d been picking up.

        He stared at the scene before him. The big cat from the wall carvings was sitting there, but it was real. He easily might have been completely distracted by the giant blue and white mechanical lion, if the gray ship hadn’t been such a hit to his pride. His eyes dated back and forth. Neither looked like anything he’d ever seen before. Their designs felt sleek and well-crafted, even the lion.

        After the initial moment to take everything in he realized, he hadn’t been fast enough. There were only retreating figures to see between the two foreign aircraft. He first noted the half dozen figures cloaked in dark suits with blue streaks running through them. He felt a rush of anxiety at the retreating figures. Something about it made his heart race, scream for him to do _something_. He was always a minute too late, always running behind great and important things. He was scrambling to his feet when he noticed the smaller figure with them.

         “ _Lance_?” he heard himself ask incredulously his under his breath, almost tripping on his own foot in surprise. He instantly felt the need to respond, “What? Really?” to his own question. He didn’t have time to try to puzzle out the cadet’s presence. He dashed across the top of the canyon to the far side, where he knew there was a path down. It wasn’t the safest way to get there, but it would be the fastest.

        Even as he hit his stride, nearly half way around the bend, he heard the distinct sound of engines roaring to life. He didn’t need to know the vehicle to know the sound. He felt his heart rate rising more than his dash could account for. He didn’t look to the side, just focused on moving forward, getting down there. He needed to get down there. He needed _answers_.

        Dust hit him and his feet faltered with the shockwave that came with it. He caught himself, teetering heedlessly on the ledge as his eyes shot up to watch the ship, lion in tow, shoot away from him.

         “HEY!” His voice ripped out of him, but it sounded like nothing over the roar of the thrusters. “You can’t leave! You can’t! Not without telling me anything!” he screamed through the whipping winds. The dust flew up under his handkerchief, but his goggles at least saved his eyes. He still had to shield them from the thrusters firing off so close.

        Then it was gone and he was left with a thudding panic in his chest. He felt the shadow of a hurt he’d stomped down long ago rising up from his gut and threatening to choke him. His vision was blurred and he yanked the goggles off his head to clean them, but realized it wasn’t the dust, but his eyes.

         “Shit,” he snarled out, his hand shooting to try to push the water from his eyes before they fell. He couldn’t have tears. Not this time. The gray ship disappeared into the sky with the lion. As the universe around him grew, Keith shrunk. He felt small again.

        As hard as he tried, where he needed to be was always out of grasp…

 

        Hunk wasn’t super happy at the idea of lying to all the professors, not to mention the head of his program, for Lance. He was a good friend, though, so if he needed some Lance time on his own. Well, Hunk couldn’t blame him. Iverson had been a real dick recently. That wasn’t even just by Lance’s account either. It’s one thing to drop a kid from a program, it’s another to try to force him to quit. It was just… mean. Sitting next to an empty seat one day was doable for Lance’s mental health. He missed the notes and the muttered lame jokes, though.

        He expected Lance to be in the room by the time class was over, but he wasn’t. So, Hunk went to dinner and came back with an extra plate for his ‘sick roommate’. Lance wasn’t there, still. Hunk sighed and set the food down on Lance’s nightstand and picked up the note again.

“ _I’m taking a Lance day. Got some stuff I gotta figure out. Cover for me. Cough cough, I’m so sick._

_Bromantically yours,_

_Lance”_

        There were also some stars and a crudely drawn Lance face next to the signature.

        The note didn’t have many details, like where he was going and when he’d get back. Hunk suddenly had sympathy for all the moms out there letting their kids go off on their own for the first time. It felt awful not knowing where someone was. He also didn’t like the idea of Lance ‘figuring stuff out’ on his own. He had been acting weird ever since Iverson called him in for a conference. Hunk was afraid he was really thinking about dropping the program. That would be stupid and ridiculous and he just wanted Lance to get back here so he could tell him that.

        Hunk ate the extra dinner after an hour because he was angry that Lance didn’t even give a call to say he was alive or not. He left the brownie because it had the star sprinkles and he knew it was Lance’s favorite. He’d joked more than once that half the reason he even stayed anymore was for the star sprinkle brownies.

        Hunk left for the garage for a few more hours, to blow off steam working on whatever broken bit of machinery had been thrown into the workshop that day. When he returned, though, the brownie was still sitting on the nightstand and no signs that Lance had come and gone. It started to feel like he had just disappeared. Hunk ate the brownie after another hour just because he was worried.

        By curfew Hunk could only see two possible options. He could tell a professor that Lance was missing, or he could go to Pidge. Pidge wouldn’t generally be his first option for help. The guy was too intense for being so small. It freaked Hunk out a little. He seemed like he should be the generic smarty-pants kid who was getting a perfect GPA and obsessively college bound. College prep wasn't what kept him up at odd hours of the night on his third or fourth cup of coffee, which Hunk knew he was getting from an illegal source since there was no way he was getting a fresh pot at 2 am without his own coffee pot. Seeing as how they weren’t even allowed to have hotplates in the dorms, he was pretty sure a coffee pot would be considered contraband as well.

        Pidge was sort of weird, always on edge, and really not good at sharing, emotionally or in the snack department. He was also incredibly good at finding out what was going on, though. Some part of his obsession definitely had to do with knowing all of the ins and outs of the base’s security. That made him the go-to guy for gossip and information. The problem was, his information always came at a cost, and it was always a weird cost.

        Most kids wanted beer or answers to the test next week, something in the classic high school student range. Pidge wanted things like a professor's first grade teacher’s name and their favorite color. Pidge traded information for information. Hunk, lucky him, would sometimes would get special requests. As a senior with an in with the mechanics teacher, Hunk had access to some unique parts and tools. Despite keeping a running list of all of Pidge’s requests, he still could never quite figure out what the guy was putting together. What he did know was that Pidge could hack into the Garrison’s Security systems and that was what Hunk needed right now. Whatever the cost, Hunk was going to find out everything Pidge knew about the last 24 hours and Lance.

 

        The bargaining had been tough. Hunk realized right away he shouldn’t have started the process with, “I don’t care what you want, I need information.” Lance would have known better, but Lance wasn’t here and he was in a rush and getting more worried by the minute. He knew this would kill his ability to negotiate in the future too. Pidge knew too much of his access to strange equipment by the end of their debate. He’d deal with that problem later, though.

         “I gave Lance access codes to a skimmer and 10 minutes security blackout on the west exit around 2:30 yesterday morning,” Pidge offered up, once a price was settled.

         “You what?” Hunk asked. “Why didn’t you just tell me that to start?” He’d thought they’d be scouring hours of security footage or something. Pidge raised an eyebrow, as if that were a stupid question, which it probably was. What did he get out of it if he just gave information away?

         “Okay, so where was he going?” Hunk asked, frustrated.

         “Oh, I have no idea. I assume west,” Pidge said with a shrug, starting to put his headphones back on. Hunk’s hand shot out.

         “Oh no! Nonono,” he said, hand shooting out to push the headphones back down. Pidge shot him a glare, but he ignored it. “If you want my half of the bargain you’re helping me figure out where he went,” he informed.

         “We had a deal,” Pidge said.

         “Yeah, and you said you’d help me figure out where Lance went,” Hunk countered.

         “I did help you!”

         “I don’t feel very helped. Not a 34-R Class Dish amount of helped,” he replied. Pidge squinted at him, trying to judge if he’d crack. Hunk was serious now, though. It had only been easy to force his hand in the bargaining because he was desperate, but that desperation would be Pidge’s undoing too, if he didn’t watch out.

         “Fine…” He crossed his legs and settled to pay more attention to Hunk, “So, what was the last _you_ saw of him?”

         “How is that going to help? I already know what _I_ know,” Hunk argued.

         “Yeah, well, _I_ don’t. And I’m not going to be any help Scooby dooing with you to find your lost roommate if I don’t have all the details. Won’t know where to look for clues,” he said. Hunk nodded, that made sense enough.

         “Well, the last time I saw him was Sunday morning,” he explained, “During his off hours he ended up sneaking out to find out where Keith was. He asked me to cover for him if there was an inspection or anything.”

         “Isn't it obvious then?” Pidge asked, reaching for his headphones again.

         “Uh, no, it’s not?” Hunk said, scowling.

         “Obviously, he's infatuated with Keith and they've run off to do something stupid together,” Pidge explained.

         “Lance isn’t just going to skip school to run off with _Keith_ ,” Hunk replied. “It’s too important to him to become a pilot. He’s driven, Pidge,” Hunk tried to explain. Pidge didn’t seem impressed.

         “Wasn't Keith driven too? Like, super intense and stuff? That’s what people tell me at least” he replied, shrugging. “I think, whatever got this Keith guy all obsessed clearly got to Lance and now they’ve run off together.”

         “Run off together? Lance _hates_ Keith. He wouldn’t be out there longer than he had to with him,” Hunk countered.

         “Hates, sure. Seems more enamored, but hey, what do I know? I only have to hear him gripe about it every time we go to the simulator,” Pidge said shrugging.

         “Okay, even if he did go back out to see Keith, what could he even be doing that is _that_ interesting out there?” Hunk asked, frowning. Pidge’s brow furrowed a little.

         “I don’t know,” he said, and seemed honestly perturbed by this. “I can't figure out what that guy’s been doing out in the desert at all. He’s popped up a couple of times on my cameras when I have the security down. It seems like he can tell when I have things off line. Guy’s weird,” he concluded.

        Hunk had to stop himself from saying a few things, like the fact that Pidge calling an 18 year old ‘kid’ was a bit inappropriate. Or how ironic it was that Pidge was bothered by anyone having goals shrouded in mystery. Instead he asked, “He’s been sneaking into the Garrison?”

         “Yeah, but I can’t figure out what for. He never leaves with anything I can tell, so I’m guessing it’s information, or maybe something small. But I always loose him around the West Wing Dorms,” Pidge griped.

         “Right at the intersection between the common room and the stairs?” Hunk asked.

         “Yeah!” Pidge said, wide eyed.

         “There’s an entrance to a pipe tunnel in the janitor closet floor. Drops down, takes you right to the main mess hall if you follow the right hand pipes,” Hunk replied. Pidge looked shocked.

         “How do you know that?” he asked.

         “Well Lance was following Keith one day-” Hunk started.

         “Obsessed,” Pidge cut in.

         “No he’s!—Well I guess maybe a little…” he admitted.

         “He went out there to find Keith, in the middle of the desert. I’m telling you, that’s why he’s disappeared,” Pidge said seriously.

         “I figure he would at least tell me if he was running off with Keith,” Hunk sighed dramatically a little. He was sort of joking, but it was true, Lance had a bit of an obsession with the guy. He’d spent a lot of time complaining to Hunk and sometimes it had gotten a little... Specific. He would hone in on a detail that really seemed just a bit much to notice, even if you hated someone with a fiery loathing. Hunk wasn’t sure Lance really hated him with a ‘fiery loathing’, but he definitely had some intense feelings and he ended up using Keith as a medium to express them.

         “Alright, so mystery solved,” Pidge said going to put his earphones back on.

         “Woah hey! Aren’t you going to help me?” Hunk asked, his face falling. He figured Pidge wasn’t so cold hearted he’d let his team member disappear trying to find some ex-student mythologically dwelling in the desert. Pidge just sighed and looked at him as if he were about to tell him it was a stupid request. He paused, though, and cringed, looking away.

         “Okay, yeesh, put the face away,” Pidge muttered, staring intently at his screen to avoid eye contact “I’ll help you or whatever.” Hunk instantly brightened and ‘put his face away’. He was pretty solid at puppy dog eyes, he knew, and somewhere in Pidge’s heart, he was a softy. He had gambled on that, but it had paid off.

         “Cool so let-,” Hunk started, but Pidge cut him off.

         “I’ll help!” He repeated, “WHEN he doesn’t just show back up in a couple of hours,” he clarified. Hunk looked heart broken and Pidge’s voice became quickly defensive. “I’m not scanning the whole desert for Lance if he’s just going to show up tonight. If he doesn’t show up by tomorrow, we’ll go out for him, okay? When did he say he was going to be back, anyway?”

         “He didn’t…” Hunk said, his expression that of a worried mother.

         “So! He’s probably just still out there with Keith,” Pidge insisted. At Hunk’s tragically forlorn face, he added, “I’ll watch the surveillance for him, okay?”

 

 

        Hunk had very reluctantly agreed to the terms. Which is why Pidge wasn’t the least bit surprised that Hunk went searching for her as soon as it hit midnight. She was, admittedly, a little surprised that he showed up on the roof. He was, for a moment, distracted from his Lance finding quest by her tech.

         “Woah, where did you get all this?” Hunk asked, seeming to lose the trepidation he’d come up onto the roof with. He rounded her dish, inspecting the whole thing with awe.

         “I made it myself,” she started smugly, then had to quickly add, “Don’t touch it.” She was ready to smack his hand if need be, but he slunk back at the scolding.

         “Fine,” he grumbled, “So-,” Pidge put up a hand to silence his preemptive arguments that ‘technically it was tomorrow’. She knew why he’d found her, and she didn’t need to be convinced.

         “I have the room number of the kid who Lance got his lead from. We can go talk to him and see where Keith supposedly is. That’ll be where Lance headed and either found Keith, or whatever made him come back for a skimmer,” Pidge said, closing her laptop and standing up. Hunk beamed like he knew Pidge was a good noodle all along.

        Pidge didn’t think it was necessary to mention to Hunk that she’d already guessed the general direction that Lance had gone, from the surveillance tape of him leaving. She’d done some preliminary scanning and found—well, she didn’t know what she found. Something strange was going on though. Whatever it was, it seemed to be the source of a lot of her frustration in the recent days.

        She’d thought that her newest comm unit was pretty awesome, one of her best creations yet. She could scan twice as far out into space with it, and was nearly reaching Kerboros with only a few minutes delay time. It was perfect, until it suddenly wasn’t working. In a split second, she’d gone from hearing something about a “Voltron” to just a garbled mess of static. She’d blamed her tech at first, but when she tried switching out new parts for older, tried and true ones, she’d found it wasn’t her equipment. Something else was dampening her signal.

        She’d grown quickly paranoid. The Garrison might have finally noticed the power being siphoned for her work, or the strange signals. It had been perfect when Lance had come to her with the offer of personal passwords for Iverson’s laptop. If anyone would carelessly leave open an e-mail about security concerns, or have a folder blatantly named on his desktop, it’d be Iverson. It turned out she didn’t even need to use it, though, because Lance had now given her a new direction for her paranoia. The dampening wasn’t coming from inside the base at all, it was coming from the west, and she was pretty sure, from orbit.

        She packed up her equipment and they headed down to sneak to the freshman dorms.

 

        Lee was a good, hardworking sort of kid. He was full of dreams and in awe of the older, bigger kids. It wasn’t because they were bigger than him; it was because they all seemed to know something he didn’t, always. Like, when you had to get to the cafeteria by if you wanted those breakfast yogurt parfaits. Or, which shower you never used in the locker room because it only spewed molten lava, even when you used the cold nob. The only time he felt like he had been in the know was when he spotted “Keith”. After that he was suddenly given the full mythology. He gained the honor of being the keeper of the lore for the freshmen. He’d felt a little special. He was less happy about that honor now though.

         “Wh-what?” Lee blinked blearily, trying to scramble away from the two forms rushing to his bed. A smaller form rushed towards him, but was overshadowed by a terrifying hulking shadow. He couldn’t understand the rush of words being thrown at him. He was still more asleep than awake and the two shadows spoke over each other in harsh whispers.

         “What’s going on?” his roommate asked.

         “Go back to sleep,” the smaller figure suggested, and by suggested, it was clearly meant as a demand.

         “What is going on?” Lee asked, pressed to the corner of his bed.

        The lamp flicked on and his heart relaxed a little to see his assailants were human, at least. Even more so, one was that big senior who had physically turned him around the second day of school when he couldn’t find the freshmen dorms. Pidge, though, wasn’t much less scary than a boogieman, and he was the one leaning in expectantly, glasses glinting in the dim light. Pidge yelled at teachers and cornered people asking weird questions. Lee wanted nothing to do with Pidge. Yet, here he was.

         “We have some questions for you,” Pidge said, and it felt menacing with his eyes covered by the glare of spectacles.

         “Okay…” he felt his voice crack.

         “Oh, woah, Pidge, you’re freaking him out,” the other guy said, pulling Pidge away from the edge of the bed and offering a big hand. Lee felt like his hand was tiny as he reached out and took it. “I’m Hunk. This is Pidge,” he introduced, shaking the hand warmly.

         “L-Lee,” he managed to stutter back. Hunk smiled and Lee could almost forget they had broken into his room and assailed him in the night. He could almost even forget Pidge was there, shoved aside by Hunk and hidden from view. Pidge wouldn’t so easily ignored.

         “Weren’t you the one in a crazy hurry?” Pidge snipped critically, elbowing his way back in. “We have questions,” he repeated, forcing Hunk back.

         “Okay…” Lee said, because there was clearly no arguing with the guy.

         “We need all of the details you gave Lance about where you saw Keith, where he was heading, and what you thought you saw on the horizon,” Pidge listed.

         “Details I gave who?” Lee asked.

         “Lance!” Hunk burst. “Lance McClain! Tall, senior, brown hair, dark blue eyes!!” he started listing off. Lee instantly remembered the lanky senior who had dragged him out after curfew a week ago.

         “OH! Yeah! Yeah… uhm… I told him he was heading west and, uh… there was a speck of something that way?” Lee offered weakly.

         “Okay, we’re gonna have to take him out with us,” Pidge said plainly to Hunk, not even bothering to ask Lee for his opinion on the matter.

         “Yeah, I think so,” Hunk said, but at least had the decency to sound sorry about it. They both turned back to Lee expectantly. There was no fighting this. Lee wanted to groan. He had a quiz tomorrow morning, and it was cold at nights now and they were probably not going to let him get dressed.

         “Yeah… let me get some socks,” he said.

         “There’s no time!” Hunk insisted, starting to yank back his covers and threw a few socks from the floor his way as he bustled towards the door. “This is a matter of life and death!” Lee wasn’t sure he believed it was really a matter of life and death, but all the same he was shocked into urgency by Hunk’s intensity. He rushed to put on the mismatched socks, at least one of which wasn’t even his. He rushed towards the door.

         “Can I come?” his roommate’s voice asked, meekly, as he was being dragged out of the room. Lee was surprised, since he knew he had the same quiz in the morning as he did.

         “No can do! I only have fake clearance for three,” Pidge said, rushing them out.

        This was how Lee found himself shivering in the desert evening, still wrapped in his blanket, at midnight, pointing vaguely out into the dark. He was trying to remember which way he’d pointed Lance. They were talking fast and he wondered how the two of them could be so awake at 1 am. He had never been a night person, and they seemed as perky as if it were early afternoon.

        Lee yawned and wobbled on his feet.

         “Okay, you can go,” Pidge said dismissively. He stared at the other freshmen.

         “Uh… aren’t you guys coming back in?” Lee asked.

         “Nope. Just stay to the way we got out and you’ll be fine,” Pidge replied. Lee stared. How was he supposed to remember which ways they’d come, in the dark, half asleep, rushed and shoved this way and that. Neither of them were paying him any attention anymore. Apparently, they were up to something ‘important’, but he didn’t know about all that. He turned and sighed, but before he started his trudge back through secret ways he certainly wouldn’t remember, a hand fell on his shoulder.

         “Thanks, man,” Hunk said, his voice warm and in the moonlight, his face looked sincere and… well Lee felt his cheeks get a little warm. He nodded.

         “Y-yeah, no problem,” he said. Then the hand was gone, and Hunk was back to whatever crazy mission he was on with Pidge.

        Lee suddenly wished he were part of it. He knew it was silly. They were just going to get themselves in trouble whatever it was. He didn’t need to be on any professor’s bad side. He felt a little giddy, though, as he fumbled his way back through the dark. He wasn’t even bothered by wondering how no security had spotted him yet, guessing it must be Pidge’s doing. He was glad he could help them, whatever they were doing, mischief of not…

 

        Hunk usually wouldn’t have let himself be dragged out in the middle of the night, much less be the one doing the dragging. Lance was always the one getting him into trouble. Pidge was a decent replacement so far as ‘getting him into trouble’ went. He realized, though, that even without Lance, he was ending up stealing away onto roofs and breaking out of the Garrison after curfew still. Maybe Lance just gave him an out, and _he_ was the trouble maker!

        Then again, it was just because Lance had disappeared he was doing any of this. Yeah, no, Lance was the trouble maker of the two of them. Hunk could feel secure in that. He was a good upstanding citizen. And if he was breaking curfew and about 19 other Garrison rules that night, it was still, indirectly, because of Lance. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

        At least Pidge was willing to answer all his increasingly specific tech questions about the crazy dish set up he’d had on the roof. Surprisingly, he always was willing to listen to Hunk’s suggestions on possible improvements, too. Pidge had seemed like the sort that would scoff at criticism, but he took it well. It made the long, arduous trek across the desert on the cold night bearable. It gave him a distraction from his increasingly intense worry for Lance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one can convince me that people don't just lowkey fall in love with Hunk for being such a good, soft, sweetie with giant warm hands. Lee definitely now will forever dream of how nice and warm and good a Hunk Hug would be. (Lee also totally got detention because his roommate tried to sneak after them and they both got caught arguing in the halls outside their room after curfew.)
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview:** Hunk, Pidge, and Keith are such a squad!


	4. Empty Seats: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Part 2 of the Empty seats chapter. Seats continue to be empty_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I haven't gotten the time to watch season 4 year, BUT I did have enough time to edit this chapter, so enjoy!

        Keith was still reeling when he made it back home. He was starting to have a hard time distinguishing between the numbness and the anger. All his emotions felt coiled into the pit of his stomach, leaving the rest of him blank. He felt himself rip the dagger out from the back of his belt and throw it across the room. His arm snapped. The dagger sliced cleanly into the wall and stuck. He felt it all, but it didn’t hold the satisfaction it should have. He felt like he could see the glowing rune on the hilt, the one that matched the insignia he’d seen on the strangers in the canyon. It was wrapped thoroughly in thick cloth, but it burned through in his mind’s eye.

        Everything felt muffled.

        He left the dagger there, stuck half in the dry wall, and collapsed onto his couch. His makeshift home seemed so small now. Not physically, but a cosmic sense. The world was so much bigger. He fell back and stared up at his cracked ceiling and tried to make sense of what he’d seen, what it meant. He wasn’t allowed much time to sort all this out before his door burst open.

         “WHERE IS HE?!” a voice bellowed and a big guy in yellow rushed him. He leapt to his feet and reached around his back. He panicked as he remembered only minutes ago he’d decided to leave his dagger in the wall on the other side of the room. Stupid.

         “We need information! What do you know about the interference?” a second person had slipped in after the big guy. This one was small and kept a bit behind but that didn’t stop their rush of questions and demands from feeling just as pressing.

         “WE NEED INFORMATION!” the big guy repeated. “Now! What do you know? What happened to him!?”

         “What? Who?” Keith tried to cut in, feeling himself tense and slipping into a stance he’d been taught a long time ago to take out bigger opponents. He was talked over as the intruders pressed forward.

         “What is out there dampening my readings? What are these machines? Are you taking readings too? What’s that?” the smaller one threw out a string of questions, head shooting this way and that. Keith stepped to intercept before too much of his equipment was tampered with.

         “I don-,” Keith tried again, but didn’t get anywhere, verbally or physically with the big guy in his way.

         “Focus Pidge! We need to know about _Lance_ ,” he shouted to his companion, voice not lowering even though he was just inches away from ‘Pidge’.

         “Lance?” Keith asked, loudly, and finally gottheir attention.

         “YEAH!” The guy’s eyes glittered with hope. Keith still felt on edge despite the change in expression.

         “Yeah,” Keith said slowly, “I saw Lance.” He kept his hands up, his posture still defensive. That didn’t seem to mean anything to the guy because he pushed in without a thought.

         “See, Hunk, I told you,” Pidge noted to the other intruder, ‘Hunk’.

         “Where is he? Is he here? LAAANCE!” Hunk called, turning about. Keith’s heart dropped as he realized task suddenly placed squarely on his shoulders. He had to tell this guy, who was willing to traipse across a whole desert for Lance, what he’d seen. He must have been staring in a silent wide-eyed horror when the smaller intruder took notice of his face.

         “What? What’s the look for? What happened?” Pidge’s eyes narrowed as they pushed around the big guy.

         “He’s… gone,” Keith said solemnly, eyes lowering. That’s how he missed the hands shooting towards him until it was too late. The creak of the floor boards gave away the guy closing the small distance between them, but not in time for Keith to do anything to stop the hands that grasped his jacket and shoved him up to the wall. The guy looked feral.

         “What happened to Lance?” the little one was asking, as the big guy took up a much more intense line of questioning.

         “What did you do to him!?” he growled. Keith’s hands snapped up to grab the strong ones gripped onto his jacket like vices.

         “What the hell?!” Keith said, wondering if he could get the guy off him without seriously hurting him. He was pretty sure this was another cadet from the Garrison. He didn’t want to break anything, but he wasn’t sure how to break the hold without brutal force. His eyes darted back in forth, quickly trying to assess the situation. He must have looked shady.

         “Is he dead? Did you kill him?!” At the accusation Keith’s eyes shot to the guy’s, and he was shocked into a stupor. His hands almost dropped from the guy’s wrists. He looked like he was about to cry. Keith realized his error belatedly. ‘Gone’ might not have been the right word. It was technically correct, and he wasn’t sure what else he could have said, but it did _not_ get his point across correctly. Crap.

         “Woah there, buddy!” Keith said in a panic. “No! I didn’t-What?! I didn’t kill him! The aliens took him!” Keith insisted hastily, before he was lifted completely off his feet.

         “ _Aliens?”_ Hunk said in a disbelieving voice. Admittedly, even he probably should have predicted the skepticism on that one.

         “Aliens?!” Pidge asked as well, but they sounded excited. They managed to wedge their way between the big guy and him. This forced Hunk to drop Keith down from his tip-toes. Keith took a few quick steps away, both to put distance between him and the physical threat, and from the smaller intruder’s barrage of questions that followed.

         “What did they look like? Where did they come from? Was he abducted? Were they collecting humans? Could they already have Human Prisoners?” The questions came out in a jumbled rush and Keith’s eyes fluttered against the onslaught.

         “They were masked and dressed mostly in black, but tall and bipedal. I don’t know where they came from but the ship was not of human origin according to any public or confidential files I’ve seen. Plus, they were making an extremely fast and controlled exit from the atmosphere. I didn’t see the lead up, but there wasn’t any struggle at the end between Lance and the Aliens. They didn’t seem like they had captured him, so I don’t think human collection is their primary goal, though I can’t say if they had any prisoners. The most important thing seemed to be getting the giant robot lion, though” he listed off. He paused to recount all the questions asked to make sure he’d hit all the answers. The two intruders looked shocked at the rapid fire reply. He’d answered all the questions so efficiently that it took a moment for the obvious next question to come.

         “Giant robotic Lion?” Hunk asked. Keith nodded.

         “It was a ship of some sort. It was the size of a GK 43 Defense transport and flew with thrusters in its feet, I think,” Keith noted.

         “That big? And shaped like a Lion?” he asked skeptically. Keith nodded again. “And then he was abducted by aliens?”

         “He seemed to go willingly. I was trying to get closer, but by the time I got near enough to possibly hear, they were packing up Lance and the Lion and leaving,” he explained.

         “So… they’re gone?” he asked, and his voice sounded dulled. He didn’t seem to know how to take this news. Keith was sure it was a strange series of mental jumps from “Lance is here” to “Lance is dead” and then to “Lance was abducted by aliens”.

         “Yeah, I haven’t seen any sign of them again since,” Keith replied, his voice getting a little softer. The news seemed to hurt. “I checked the site and didn’t find anything to trace them with.” He hadn’t found anything at all, in fact. He’d spent the whole day and night at it too.

         “We have to go after them,” Pidge startled the other two by the seriousness of their tone, staring at them determinedly. “We have to.”

         “Why?” Keith asked as the big guy simultaneously asked “How?”

         “Because they might have my brother, and I don’t know _how_ but we have to,” they said sternly.

         “You’re brother? Why would they have your brother?” Hunk asked, and Keith was surprised. Apparently, the co-assailants didn’t even know what was going on with each other. The situation was becoming even more of a mess.

         “Because he was on the Kerboros Mission and I have intel suggesting that it wasn’t a mechanical failure, but they were taken and-,” It was Keith’s turn to leap forward, grabbing their shoulders.

         “The Kerboros Mission? What information do you have?” he asked, urgently. Hunk stepped up to possibly separate the two of them, but stopped when Pidge looked just as engaged as Keith at the new topic.

         “Why? What do you know about the Kerboros Mission?” they asked, eyeing him suspiciously, but with keen interest.

         “It was the reason I left the Garrison,” he burst, heedlessly. Pidge could be as wary is they wanted, Keith was starved for information. He shared in desperate hope of returns. “Part of why at least. It was Takashi Shirogane’s last mission and… well there was a lot going on. I’ve been studying signals that started pulsing after that. If you think we can find them…” he trailed off.

         “We’ll have to compare notes,” Pidge said, seeming to get over their skepticism for the sake of knowledge. “To summarize, there were strange readings and transmissions. I’ll get you copies, but they suggest that something else was going on before we supposedly lost contact. And we never actually lost contact. Everything is still running on Kerboros and reporting back an ‘all systems normal’, other than unusually low oxygen consumption.”

         “It’s still sending out transmissions?” Keith asked very serious, nodding all the while. “Come here,” he said, finally letting go of Pidge’s shoulders, “I have readings of the activity surrounding some caves near where the aliens were. They match data of an energy signal that appeared suddenly just before they claimed the ship malfunctioned. It showed up a few minutes before they cut all the transmissions from the Kerberos Mission, and where the public record cut off-,” he was walking quickly to one of the machines ticking out information.

 

        Hunk was lost. He didn’t know anything about this conspiracy that everyone else seemed to be well versed on. The two of them fell into a deep, and deeply confusing discussion. They were instantly thick as thieves, leaving Hunk alone with the fact that _his best friend had been abducted by aliens_. He didn’t know what this all meant. He didn’t have the year of obsessively researched background information apparently necessary for this conversation. Instead he reached over to look at the read outs.

         “Huh, it kinda looks like a Fraunhofer Line,” he said. They both stopped and turned to him.

         “A what?” Pidge asked.

         “You know… spectral emission lines created by photons being absorbed as light passes from--,” Hunk paused at the blank stares he was receiving. “Okay, so there’s this Wallaston guy who notices these dark areas in the solar spectrum,” he started.

         “Okay, okay okay, but what does it mean?” Pidge cut in.

         “Oh, I don’t know,” he said holding it up. “I just thought it was interesting,” he said. “Hey, and it kinda looks like that landscape you got a photo of there,” he added with a goofy smile as he pulled up the paper to look at it side by side with one of the photos pinned up onto a big old map on a cork board.

         “That took me 6 months to find… wh-what the hell?” Keith whispered, seeming somewhere between angry and baffled.

        Pidge whipped his laptop out of his backpack. “Okay, what can you do with these?” he started, booting up his computer. Hunk went to sit next to Pidge as Keith took the sheet that was handed off. He walked up to the board to stare between the two, bewildered.

        Hunk and Pidge had just about worked out a tracking mechanism. Between Pidge and Keith’s strange readings, and Keith being able to add physical locations and photographs, they’d made a lot of progress. Still, it was almost dark when they were feeling confident with their analysis, and the little machine they’d rigged up. Before they could start testing it, four alarms were going off all around the little desert shack. Keith was dashing to the door as the other two leapt to their feet in alarms.

         “What’s going on?” Hunk asked, worry dripping off his words.

         “Have they found us?” Pidge asked, clearly ready for the feds to bust him at any moment, or something. Hunk was not so ready to be part of a conspiracy and running from the law. He looked around nervously.

         “Something else is coming down from space in the area,” Keith announced as he shoved the door open. He grabbed a small beeping device as he went from its place duct taped to the wall next to the door.

        Pidge slung the new device, backpack sized for their travelling convenience, and Hunk followed after him. The three of them all made it outside in time to see a streak of light shoot down from the sky and hit the earth.

         “What the heck was that? Are they back?” Pidge asked.

         “Too fast. That was a crash landing,” Keith said. “And a smaller ship,” he tagged on. He paused, “Where would you say that landed?” he asked, his eyes glancing back to the two of them.

         “Well, from its speed and direction I’d say it had to have landed no more than ten miles north west. Probably just behind those plateaus over there,” Hunk replied pointing casually.

        Keith was tugging on his jacket. “I’m going to go check it out.”

         “I’m coming with,” Pidge announced instantly. Hunk hesitated. This was insane, he knew that. But what if it was Lance? What if he _had_ been abducted and he managed to escape. That landing did look like one of Lance’s from the simulator…

         “I’m coming too,” Hunk announced. Keith paused, looking him over.

         “All right, let’s go,” he said. He dramatically yanked aside a large tarp revealing a sand skimmer and hopped on. Pidge jumped on right behind him without hesitation as he started the engines. Hunk hesitated. There wasn’t a seat left for him. He scooted awkwardly onto the tail end, causing the whole thing to tip for a moment. Keith corrected for him and without a word of warning, they’re off. Hunk is thrown back, but that doesn’t seem to throw Keith off at all.

        If Hunk had the wherewithal to scream, he would have. Keith took them in a wild path, down nearly vertical cliff edges, around sharp corners and through narrow passages that Hunk was certain they wouldn’t make. He drove like they were being chased. He felt like Keith was enjoying himself a little, too. They made eye contact for a moment and he could swear the guy smirked at him before taking them over another cliff edge.

        When they came to a stop Pidge was still clinging to Keith and Hunk rolled off the back of the skimmer to puke. If he wasn’t too busy puking, he would have flipped Keith off when he ‘shh’ed him. Pidge and Keith were soon peaking over the edge of rocks. They’d stopped a little away from the crash site and cautiously moved in closer to see what it was.

         “Nothing’s coming out of the pod,” Pidge was whispering when Hunk had finished hurling and crawled up next to them. “Maybe we can use some of my equipment to-,” he was starting when Keith vaulted himself over the rocky edge and slid down into the crater like ravine the small ship had created hitting the ground.

         “Pidge!” Hunk hissed nervously as the small boy followed suit. If their hiding was already compromised he apparently didn’t see the point in not investigating too. Hunk sighed and finally scrambled over the rocks as well. Pidge stumbled at the bottom, but was light enough to catch himself and not go careening into the pod. Hunk had a little more momentum when his foot caught on a rock. He rolled directly into the hull, which was still hot from re-entry, though the occasional loud plumes from opening and shutting ports of the hull seemed to suggest something had thankfully been working to cool it. He might have been missing a bit of skin otherwise.

        Keith was prowling around the small escape pod looking ship when Pidge joined him.

         “There has to be some way to open this…” Keith muttered. While the other two searched Hunk looked up from the spot where he’d rammed into the already weakened hull. He noticed a piece curled outwards just next to a handle. There was a picture of a curved line with a bunch of lines spewing out from under it. He wrenched open the little door and found a lever.

         “Hey guys,” he called. They both turned. He pulled the lever and they both scrambled back at the sound of a sharp crack from all around the clouded front windshield. After another mechanical whirling noise, the whole top shot off and came crashing back down a few meters away.

        As soon as the way was clear Keith climbed back up onto the ship and peered inside eagerly.

         “It’s empty…” he said, sounding disappointed.

         “But I bet the computers aren’t,” Pidge replied, crawling past him and tumbling into the small cockpit.

         “There’s no time for that now,” Keith said, glancing over his shoulder.

         “Too bad! I’m checking the computers,” Pidge snapped back, stubbornly.

         “No, I mean, in a few minutes the Garrison will be swarming this place. They were at the Alien landing site when I was leaving. They’ll be on high alert after that and this is much closer,” he said.

         “Well, I’m still getting into this computer,” he retorted sharply.

         “Yes! You will. _After_ we take the ship somewhere to hide it!” Keith said with rising annoyance.

         “How are we going to do that?” Hunk asked skeptically.

        Keith slid down the side of the ship and back to the skimmer. He popped open a storage compartment and produced two hover adapters.

         “Are you why I couldn’t get those from Jerry’s Scrap Shop?” Hunk half shouted in an accusing tone.

         “Wha-uh, yeah that’s where I got them,” Keith said, lugging them out.

         “He was selling them at such a good priiiice,” Hunk groaned. Keith grinned a little.

         “Yeah, he was,” he agreed. Hunk grumbled and stomped over, taking one from him.

         “They still won’t be enough to get it out of this crater, it’s dug itself in pretty deep. Unless you think we have time to dig it out,” Hunk said, still feeling cheated. The school cryptid had stolen his deal right out from under his nose. Maybe Lance had had a point about this guy.

         “This thing still has emergency functions running without authorization needed,” Pidge piped up from the cockpit. “I think I can shoot off the thrusters real quick. That might at least get it unburied,” he suggested.

         “Sounds good,” Keith called back as he and Hunk backed a good distance away. Keith didn’t seem to worry for an instant if Pidge really knew what he was doing. He had a strange amount of faith in both of them, actually. Hunk frowned as he took refuge behind some nearby rocks.

         “CLEAR,” Keith shouted. A few moments passed before a loud humming started up and then a burst. There was a cacophony of thrusters, horrible crashing and scrapping and, somehow above it all, Pidge’s scream of shock.

        It was only a few seconds that passed but it felt like an eternity before the two ran out to see what had happened. The little ship had shot back and ran into the canyon wall, denting both the ship and rock, but neither as badly as it sounded. Pidge’s head shot up after a moment, hand to his temple as he peered around.

         “Well… it’s out of the ground,” he said with a shrug. Hunk rushed over to help him down as he tried crawling out of the cockpit. After sitting him down to rest, Hunk went to help Keith set up the hover attachments. The pair of them would, likely, barely get the thing off the ground, and not at all if they were placed wrong. After a few moments discussing balancing with Keith and correcting the placement, they set to work attaching them.

         “On three!” Hunk called, counting down before they started both up at the same time. Amazingly… it worked, though it wobbled. Pidge scampered under and slapped on the balancer. This usually would be the first thing to do. But, usually these attachments would be put on in a garage where the item in question could be lifted.

         “Whoo! Go team!” Pidge called from underneath when he wasn’t crushed to death. Hunk grabbed his ankle and yanked him out from under the few tons of metal. Pidge was just grinning, while Hunk’s heart was pounding for him. Weird kid.

        They tied the ship to the hoverbike. The way back would be much slower going than the way there, with the precariously lifted cargo in tow.

         “We better get a move on. I think those are helicopter lights,” Pidge pointed out back to the east, towards the Garrison.

        “Wow. That took them longer than I thought,” Keith noted, seeming almost disappointed. He shook his head, “Let’s get going.” They all climbed back on and set off, hoping they’d be able to make it out of search range before the lights in the distance got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge, Hunk, and Keith are best squad. Just saying. They're gonna be so nerdy together. Aww yeah.
> 
>  **Next chapter preview:** So... how's everyone doing in space? Anyone curious?


	5. Meeting The Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _First meetings and a little bit of backtracking._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took. I ended up doing some restructuring, so this is also a bigger chapter and _probably_ could be two chapters, but you all have waited long enough so just have it all!

        Shiro’s vision blurred. He’d stopped. Something had stopped him. He didn’t remember landing the one man escape ship, or crashing for that matter. His head fell back and there were no stars above him. He tried to remember where he was. Nothing. Then Voltron. That was all passing through his mind. They had to know. He had to warn them. He couldn’t figure out where the stars were though. What he was doing… His breath quickened in panic as his mind fell deeper into a cluttered mess. Something was beeping at him, and there was an insistent whirling. He’d heard it the whole time, but all the little noises felt like they all came together to clog his brain as he tried to remember anything. Anything but his urgency.

        Shiro suddenly stopped breathing. One last sharp breath in and he held it. He shut his eyes tight, willing everything to reset. The soft, but insistent sounds around him faded under the rumbling in his head from the tensed muscles. The tensor tympani. That’s what made that sound when he scrunched up his face. Someone had told him that once.

        Matt.

        Fragments of memories smeared over his consciousness. The mission. Pain and shouting and cheering... Alien figures leaning over him. Sam and Matt… Voltron.

        Voltron.

        He didn’t open his eyes until he could see the light above him had changed, showing through his eyelids. His eyes shot open, but he flinched back when the lights were brighter than he’d anticipated. He tried to pull a hand up to shield his eyes, but found himself restrained. His heartrate leapt back up. He was determined, though. He forced his eyes open again.

         “Please,” he started, cringing against the light. He’d been so sure he’d set the tiny, one-man ship to head to Earth, he expected to see humans staring back at him. He was met with masks instead of faces. He wasn’t sure who these people were, but if they were humans he had to tell them.

        "We’re all in danger." Everything was fuzzy. He had to try to tell someone. "You have to listen," he went on. He wasn’t sure if he believed these were humans or not. Other visions on operating tables blurred over his sight. He had to keep talking. He had to keep going if there was any chance they were human. “Voltron. They’re coming for it,” he insisted.

         “We need you to calm down,” A voice informed. One of the figures moved towards him. Something was in their hand. A syringe was coming towards his arm.

         “You don’t understand. Don’t put me under!” he shouted. “They’re coming!” he felt himself shouting more than heard. His throat felt raw and he realized he’d been shouting the whole time. Something pricked into his arm.

         “We know,” the voice said, cold and even. Hope evaporated, replaced by an icy fear that ran through his veins just a second ahead of the sedatives. He felt the sting of failure as his eyes slipped close against his will.

 

        Shiro felt consciousness slowly flowing into his limbs. He felt relaxed for a quiet, peaceful moment, comfortable even… Then he remembered the panic. The masked figures. Escape. His mission.

        Wakefulness shot through him with a rush of adrenaline and he tried to jerk himself out of the restraints around his arms. There were no restraints though, and he sent himself shooting up. The sharp tingle faded as he took control of himself again. He was in a bed.

        The room was dark with quiet blue lighting around him. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t Earth. It wasn’t a cell either. The mattress under him wasn’t soft, but the sheets were of good quality and the comforter was plush, floating over him like a warm cloud of all his captured body heat.

         “Hello?” he called, venturing he hadn’t been recaptured. He stood himself up and felt a little more balanced, even if his memory was still patchy at best. He didn’t try too hard to judge if it was the medication or his own mind that kept his memory clouded. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the mission. What mattered was the one clear thing in his head. Voltron.

        Shiro pressed forward, finding the door unyielding. It flashed red when he placed his hand to the pad. He tried the… other hand. It flashed red again. He took a moment of silent contemplation, staring at the blank sheet of metal in front of him. He looked around the room. One door. Vents seamlessly cut into the wall. No windows or other points of exit or entry.

        Shiro looked down at the metal attached to him, the fingers moved with the flexes of his phantom limb. He rolled the digits closed, then open again, repeating this a few times. Then he clenched the fist tightly. When he opened it again, in a sharp snap of a movement, it burst into a bright pinkish color. He shoved the hand in between the door and the wall it slid into. Forcing the fingers between the metal pieces, he slowly pried the wall back until he could get to the edge of the door. He then pulled the hand back to turn it around, the fingers stopped glowing as he curled the edge of them around the door’s side. He shifted his weight and pulled hard until the lock snapped.

        It was easy to break things when you attacked them from the wrong angle. The door was designed to take blunt force and blasters head on. The lock only needed to be good enough that hands sliding over the smoot surface couldn’t pick up enough friction to break it. It wasn’t prepared to take all of Shiro’s weight.

        Shiro slid the door back into the other side of the wall and stepped out. The door didn’t even register that it had opened, since the walls side of the lock remained in place. He stepped out into the hall and looked back and forth. It felt familiar in a very vague sense, but he was fairly certain he’d never been in quite this style ship before. It wasn’t too far off in sensibility, though, from what he caught flashes of now and again.

        He hadn’t gotten far down the hall before he was found. Three masked figures converged on him. They were all dark hoods and glowing eyes. Shiro slowed to a stop and put his hands up without a fight.

         “Will you tell me where I am?” he asked, his voice even but authoritative. It was his officer voice, holding a balance of respectful and respected.

         “You are no longer in the custody of the Galra Empire,” the center masked figure said, stepping forward. Shiro took a step forward to meet her. Solidifying their equal status, even if they were, in fact, far from equal. He was still a prisoner, if the locked door was any indication. He looked over the stature of the woman. Memories were filtering back to him slowly. The height and build was too large for a human. It reminded him of his previous captors more than any other alien figure he could recall.

         “I would like my ship back, and if you are able to spare previsions I would be thankful, though I have nothing to offer you in return.” He felt the heavy weight of the silence in this place and spoke concisely to match it.

         “You cannot continue your current route,” the masked woman replied and stopped. She offered no explanation without prompting. So Shiro prompted her.

         “What is wrong with my going on?”

         “You were heading to your home world,” this may have been a question, but she spoke it as a statement regardless. “Your presence there would put the planet and its inhabitants in danger.”

         “Danger is sometimes a necessity of a mission. I had to-,” Shiro was surprised when he was cut off.

         “Your vessel would have been tracked and you would have led them directly to it,” she said solemnly. Lead them to it.

        To Voltron.

         “Yes,” the alien agreed. Shiro was startled to realize he’d said the words aloud. So many words had just been rattling around in his brain with no outlet for so long that his filter had slipped.

         “What do you know about Voltron?” Shiro asked. He said this as if he were privy to some greater knowledge. The truth of it was, he didn’t know much of anything. He knew it was important. He knew something for it was on Earth. He knew he had to warn the people of Earth of what was coming, and the horror he could only catch flickers of in his own mind. How he’d gained this knowledge was less clear.

         “Return to your room. There is a meeting being arranged when all parties are present,” the masked woman said. She dismissed the other two large figures on either side, but waited on Shiro before leaving herself. Shiro waited for a moment before asking the practical question.

         “Food?”

         “We will provide it in your room,” she said. He nodded. She nodded. They parted ways in silence after their perfunctory conversation. He knew it was sad how light his heart felt, though. He had been treated better in that cold conversation, his humanity recognized more in the past two minutes, than he had been in…

        Shiro’s heart sunk at the realization that he could put no time, vague or otherwise, on his time away. A life among humans felt a lifetime ago. It felt shadowy, hidden behind the thick layer of fog that was his time in captivity. It felt dream like. He couldn’t have been away more than a year or two. He felt it couldn’t be longer than that. But the haziness just made it so hard to tell.

        Shiro was provided for. Even with the disapproving look at his door, which did not again close quite completely, the aliens did not retract their promise of hospitality. He was given food, new clothes, even a sort of spray which he believed was a bathing item. He clearly lacked some basic understanding about space hygiene, though, and found himself turning it about as if there would be directions like the back of a hair product. There wasn’t. The canister was unlabeled and unhelpful. He appreciated the sentiment.

        It was two quiet cycles and four meals before he was called on for the promised meeting. He was led silently down to a room with open standing area. There he stopped sharp at the sight that greeted him. The lean purple face shocked his memory, bringing a visceral wave of nausea on. His muscles tensed, fighting restraints he knew were only in his head, but still forced his muscles into a stock stillness, as if he were on the operating table again. His heart stuttered.

         “Human,” the voice was deep and even and calming. Shiro’s muscles relaxed. He focused on the face. This hadn’t been someone who hurt him, at least not without calming words and proper anesthesia. More importantly, the face cleared in his memory as the one who had freed him. The last one he had talked to. The one who had told him where to go to escape.

         “Thank you,” he said, after what was surely an awkward pause. The tall alien, a Galra, nodded to him and gestured for him to come and stand in the small circle that was forming. He was dressed like the rest of them. Dark, tight fitting uniforms with equally dark cloth draped over it. His hood, though, was down and mask missing, leaving him exposed, unlike the rest of those present.

         “I am Ulaz,” the man from his operating table memories started. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” All the masks swiveled to Shiro, and he considered.

         “Shiro,” he replied, keeping his name as short and concise. “You… were on the Galra ship?” The statement turned into a question at the end, though he attempted to keep his tone neutral. Ulaz nodded.

         “This is the Human who was captured by the Empire. His presence was the first indication that they had taken an interest in that sector of space and led to our discovery of the possible hiding place for one of the Lions of Voltron,” Ulaz explained. Shiro’s attention leapt at the mention of Voltron.

         “What’s there? What’s on Earth?” he asked, despite himself. He so desperately needed answers. He needed something to fill in these cloudy parts of his memories. He knew Voltron was important. Only Ulaz turned to look at him this time.

         “We have reason to believe the Blue Lion may be present on your homeworld,” he explained. “If it is there, it must be found and hidden in a new location to keep all five from falling into The Empire’s control.” This was apparently a controversial opinion.

         “Even if they found two of the five, they cannot form Voltron, and we have no indication they are close to finding any of the others,” one of the masked figures said, three glowing eyes, turning to bore into Ulaz.

         “Our intelligence is incomplete,” an alien with a thick tail spoke in an awkward, halting manner. “The generals were only just informed of this information about the Blue Lion. We have no indication they are not hiding more knowledge even within the inner circle of the generals.” Shiro realized that the alien’s pauses were not just a strange speech pattern, but that he was speaking for another party who was not there in person.

         “I do not need to hear conspiracy theories,” the masked figure insisted, harshly. “I need facts worth risking my men and our operation for.”

         “Two lions would be a great fighting force on their own, and may lead to a way to find the others, if _this one_ could be piloted,” Ulaz pointed out.

         “I am not concerned with ‘if’s,” he shot back, unmoved.

         “You must consider all of the possibilities,” Ulaz insisted.

         “It would be risking too much to bring our ships if there is any risk of Empire presence,” he said solidly. “If we reveal ourselves we jeopardize every mission, undercover or otherwise, by raising suspicions. Our order has been hunted nearly to extinction before, and time is more critical now than ever.”

         “It is more critical because of the new threat of Voltron,” the stilted speaker relayed.

         “Because we have more operations in place than we have had the power and ability to in a long time, and have learned much more of their plans,” the masked figure corrected.

        While there were six aliens that stood at the assembly, only three spoke. Ulaz and the missing operative seemed to align against the third. Despite this, Ulaz’s team did not look to be making headway. The grim alien had to be convince before they could move forward with bolder plans, and he was unmovable.

         “We cannot risk showing ourselves,” he insisted, in a solid voice. Finally, Shiro decided he had to cut into the conversation.

         “Then let me go. I’ll get back into my pod, warn my people, and we’ll-,” Shiro started to suggest. He stopped when the masked figure turned sharply back towards him. While his face was covered, it didn’t stop the glare from being clear. He had forgotten about Shiro’s presence. No doubt he had heard more than the cautious alien would have liked.

         “And in so doing, you would lead them directly to their prize,” he said, grimly.

         “My people deserve to know what’s coming for them,” he said, refusing to be intimidated. There was a long pause.

         “They will be,” the masked alien stated. Ulaz’s face betrayed emotion for the first time, despite all the passion of his words. “But you must be taken care of first,” he added.

        Shiro felt a shot of adrenaline at the threatening words. He remained stock still, but his mind retraced his way to the door, down the halls, where they had passed what could have been a docking bay. His eyes darted to assess the path of least resistance through the aliens present. Ulaz noticed the feral look that sprung onto Shiro’s face.

         “You will be safe, Shiro,” Ulaz informed, reading his fear and calmly removing it. Shiro felt himself relax, despite himself.

         “Then you will let me borrow a ship that won’t be tracked?” he asked, when he’d returned to a more reasonable state of mind.

         “No. We will arrange the warning. You will be taken to the Rebel’s nearest hub.” The stern alien had clearly decided this much earlier than he’d let on in the argument.

         “The Rebels?” Shiro asked.

         “They will tell you about themselves,” he said and then was silent.

        At that, his part of the conference ended. One of the silent members of the assembly was waved to. They walked to Shiro. He gathered quickly that he was meant to follow, and that he was being taken to these ‘rebels’ now.

         “Wait,” he said, realizing he hadn’t gotten to any of his questions, “Why did you free me? What are you if not part of the rebellion, as well?” he asked, trying to prioritize his questions, though he had a plethora of trivial ones vying for answers in his mind.

         “We are nothing for you to be concerned with. Forget us and we will have done well to let you go free,” the serious masked alien said. Shiro realized, finding this time no other speaker came to questions the words, that he had pushed his luck far enough. He had already been privy to more than was prudent for their organization. Swallowing down his other questions, he nodded.

        He was lead to an unmarked, small vessel and given coordinates, not that he would be allowed to change the course of the ship, or even turn the screens on, until he had reached his destination. This would leave him vulnerable if he was spotted by, well, any unfriendly peoples in the void of space. He wouldn’t even see them coming, let alone be able to defend himself. He would be at the mercy of luck, and the path laid out for him.

        His other options were limited, so he took the ship. It wasn’t much worse than his mad dash out of the Galra labs. He was barely conscious enough at the time to lay in a course, let alone navigate. So, one more time he left himself to fate.

        After he arrived with these Rebels, he hoped to find them more reasonable and less cryptic. He had no idea what to expect anymore. Space had proven a strange place, and his memories of it still only came to him in slivers and flashes.

 

         “You said the escape shuttle may have been tracked,” Ulaz noted to the stern alien next to him as he pulled off his mask, now that their ‘guest’ was departing. A wide scar cut down from the red markings on his forehead all the way to his mouth, making him look even more grim.

         “I did,” he agreed.

         “Do you believe that?” Ulaz asked. He had been the one to organize the escape. It was questioning his due diligence.

         “It might be,” he replied. “Which is why we must arrive before it, if we are to track down this piece of Voltron. If it cannot be found before the pod lands, or we risk alerting the Earthlings of our presence, we retreat and wait to see if The Empire chases after it.”

        Ulaz listened quietly and nodded. He didn’t argue details. This was already a huge concession. They would search for the Lions of Volton, a plan centuries forsaken by The Blade.

         “And the Earthlings?” the stilted voice of the missing party joined in.

         “We do not have time for your sentimentality, Thace. The Order will be protected first,” he replied. “Your communication has been going on too long.”

        The lizard tailed alien who had been speaking for Thace paused, nodded, and then turned away to leave, the connection broken.

         “We will have to hurry to beat the escape pod with time to search,” Ulaz reminded, pushing down everything but the next goal. He couldn’t afford to think of anything else. This was his mission. This was important.

         “We leave as soon as the Human is clear of our vessel.”

        Finding the hidden Lion would be nearly impossible, but Ulaz still hoped. He had to. There were too many signs. The universe was quietly signaling that it was time for something to change. He was afraid to lose the human, Shiro, but making it to Earth felt more important. It might be a fatal judgement call, but every decision was for him. He couldn’t let that stop him from acting.

 

~*~*~

 

        Lance woke up in Tron. Minimalistic décor and trailing lines of light surrounded him in his sleek, sci-fi room. He was still getting used to it. He had expected to wake up and have a crazy dream to tell Hunk. Except, this wasn't a dream. He really was in space, surrounded by aliens in their Tron ship.

        He admitted the aesthetic was cool and all, but it felt weird for the glowing strips of blue and purple to make it all the way into the living quarters. He already could tell in a couple days he’d be ready to kill a man for an ugly, 60 watt, yellow light bulb. Anything to bring in a different part of the spectrum. The blue was too heavy and intense for everyday use. It left things feeling shadowed that weren't and needlessly mysterious. He didn't need mystery to take a leak. He didn't need the ominous feeling that something was amiss to eat his spacios.

        Ulaz was still the only one who he’d seen without a mask on. That felt about as needless as the intense ambiance. He wasn’t sure who he’d tell, and even if he did he didn’t know what he’d tell them. ‘ _Oh yes officer! The Tron-Space-Ninja-Assassin Squad? I’ve seen them maskless. They were purple! And Tall!’_ And the space cop would make a perfect picture of Ulaz, and the lizard tail guy, who, if Lance was being honest, he imagined with a crocodile head. He knew it didn’t make sense with the mask, but he still just couldn’t get the image out of his head that some Sobek looking shit was going on under there.

        The only thing that wasn’t sleek and smooth in his room is the edging of the door. It looked mangled, though maybe that was an alien design aesthetic he couldn’t understand. Honestly it looked like someone had taken the wall and just hulk gripped it. Then again, NVG wore a braided choker with his assassin get up, so whatever.

        Just about when he was ready to start wandering the halls himself, one of the masked guys showed up. He silently indicated for him to follow, and let Lance to a dining hall. He was given some bland looking, oatmeal textured stuff, which was surprisingly good. He tried asking a few questions, but the blank, silent stare of the masked guy, who refused to sit, eventually got him to eat his food in silence.

        No one talked to him that whole day. He was led back to his room and then completely ignored. He tried leaving, but when he got to the end of the hall there was the masked guy, or maybe it was a different masked guy. It was hard to tell. He was silently led back around to his room. It wasn’t exactly like he was forced, but the ominous stare was enough for him not to argue.

        So, Lance stayed in his room the first day in space. It wasn’t too horrible. He had a window in his room, which he would later learn was quite a coveted thing on the sleek ship. They were scarce, but it certainly kept him occupied as he almost instantly couldn’t recognize anything out that window. Not even hours upon hours of obsessively looking at star navigation simulations, these stars looked like nothing he knew. He had no idea where they were after their initial jump.

        The next few days he spent just getting his silent masked dude to acknowledge him. He tried regular conversations starters, moved on to cheesy space pick-up lines, and when all of that failed, he just started spouting nonsense. None of it worked. The only thing that reassured him his watcher even understood him, was he always responded to requests for food or other basic necessities.

        He had to admit, he wasn’t sure if it was the same watcher each day or not. These guys didn’t have distinctive traits like a tail, or a third glowing light in their mask. They apparently hadn’t earned the right to customize their get ups, yet. Had to be at least level 10 alien ninja assassins to start getting the good drops on missions. No white braided chokers for these newbs.

        Day three rolled around and Lance managed to get a word.

         “Follow.”

        He hadn’t expected to get any response as he was griping. He was complaining that he hadn’t even gotten to see Blue, and he thought, since he was the sacred chosen one or whatever, he should at least get to see her. He stopped mid air-bicycling his legs, when he heard a voice other than his one. He rolled off his shoulders and hopped up onto his feet, feeling almost giddy. Lance beamed and half pranced after his watcher through winding corridors that all looked the same.

 

        Blue didn’t put her shield down until the masked dude had backed away and gone to guard the door. She seemed leery, and Lance guessed that they’d been poking at her the past couple days, and getting nowhere. For Lance, though, she let her protective orb fall and leaned her head down.

        As soon as he stepped into the ship, he could feel her wake up and hum with excitement. The excitement thrummed into him as well, right down to his core, but he knew he couldn’t act on it.

         “I’m sorry girl,” he said, in a soft voice. “I know you wanna go somewhere, but it’s not time yet. I gotta talk these guys into letting you go first. I’ll work on it, though. For now, let’s take it slow. Get to know each other,” he said. He curled his fingers around the controls and watched her flicker to life.

        Blue’s controls were like nothing he’d seen before, or trained on. They didn’t feel wrong, but like something he had to remember. He figured this ancient bit of technology must be some sort of super intuitively designed so any random alien could figure it out. So that’s what he decided to do, figure her out. She would be better company than the guy standing at the door anyway.

        He spent the next couple days just getting to know every inch of her. This included getting some stares from nearly silent dude. He couldn’t see his face but he knew it was judgmental when he nearly crushed himself under the ladder he’d spotted on the other side of the docking bay Blue was kept in alone. It was clearly a two-man job to move the ladder, but his guard didn’t budge so he bubbled around until he got it there on his own.

        Lance proceeded to climb up onto her back and stroll around up there. He decided that, other than being in the cockpit, his favorite place to chill was just on top of her head. He laid out there and wondered what the stars would be like above him if the ceiling weren’t there, blocking his view.

 

        At first it wasn’t too bad, with Blue to entertain him. The food was the same pretty decent oatmeal stuff, but after a week, when he realized it was the only thing they ate, he started to despair. Everything was hitting him on that last day. No one had spoken to him, other than one or two direct orders. He hadn’t seen anyone’s faces. Hell, there were no mirrors as far as he could tell, so he hadn’t even seen his _own_ face. Though, given how minimalistic and drying the soap they gave him ways, it was probably hell to look at anyway.

        Everything felt like it was starting to close in around him, as the excitement wore off. That was when Ulaz found him, alone as always, in the dining hall. He was pretty sure they put him in there specifically when it wasn’t a meal time, or everyone was away, just so he’d be in the big cavernous room alone.

         “Lance,” he said in his deep serious voice.

         “Oh my god!” Lance dropped his spork in shock. Then he was grinning a ridiculous grin, he could feel it straining his chapped lips. He went on even though the alien’s face didn’t shift at all from its serious expression. “You don’t know how _nice_ it is to be talked to again. Quiet McShutupington over there has given me _two words_.” He said jutting his thumb back at his silent guard. The guy turned to them. Ulaz and him had a quick nod and McShutupington turned and left the doorway.

         “I understand the transition must be difficult,” Ulaz said. He didn’t sound compassionate, but he did sound sincere. That was something.

         “Yeah, well, I thought I was gonna at least get the lowdown on the whole intergalactic war thing and what the heck my giant robo-lion has to do with it,” Lance said. He’d grown even more attached to the Lion while he’d endured the silent treatment. It was definitely his now, or he was hers.

         “Yes… I believe we owe you that,” Ulaz said with a nod. He sat down, and that was when Lance realized that his answer was going to be a long one.

        After all the smoke and mirrors and masks, he didn’t expect the answer to be so straight forward. Ulaz explained the whole damn thing. Voltron being an ancient super weapon, the fall of an alliance, the rise of the Galra Empire, the secret formation of The Blade of Marmora out of the very Galra Empire that was slowly devouring the universe. That was what they called themselves; The Blade of Marmora. It had a ‘Sword of Kahless’ sort of sound to him. He could get into that though.

        When Ulaz finally paused long enough he thought he might actually be finished with the long history, Lance’s elbow he’d been leaning on was numb. In fact, most of him was achy from the unsustainable posture he’d ended up stuck in by accident, too rivetted by the story to notice how uncomfortable he was.

         “That’s crazy!” he announced. “Holy cow! That’s so epic and intense! And I’m going to be helping you guys now?” he asked, a sparkle in his eyes. He always knew he’d make a good super spy. He just didn’t know it’d be an ‘intergalactic man of mystery’ instead of international.

         “Ideally, your cooperation would be welcomed. I share this information with you, about The Blade, in hopes that you will understand what we are,” the alien said.

         “So,” Lance put on a smirky grin, “Does that mean I’m part of The Blade?” he asked, feeling good about this new title.

         “No.” Lance’s heart sunk.

         “Wait, what?” Lance asked, sitting up straighter, feeling cheated.

         “That is a task far beyond you,” Ulaz said plainly, “But I believe your help will be integral in our success to come.” Defiance shown in his eyes then, and Lance remembered the reluctance of the other alien back on Earth to bring him along. Ulaz had vouched for him, and Lance wanted to live up to those expectations suddenly. He wanted to be useful and important.

         “I’ve been spending time with Blue,” Lance blurted. Ulaz looked to him, but didn’t speak right away. So, Lance went on, his words a little rushed in his eagerness to impress. “We are getting along _great_. I think I could fly her like a pro now,” he explained. “On that subject! I’ve been thinking about it, and there’s clearly somewhere Blue wants to go. You know, she tried to break away from you guys back on Earth because she was trying to get there. So, if I could take her out to fly around…”

         “I am sorry, Lance, but it would not be allowed,” he interjected.

         “Well, then, if you guys could maybe get me out doing some badass missions with you?” he tried again.

         “You are not properly trained,” Ulaz stated.

        “Then train me!” Lance said, pushing up on his hands. He was met with silence, and he heard the dining room door quietly sliding back open. He knew before Ulaz even stood up that his time was up. Ulaz nodded to him, and Lance said goodbye. Then he was back to the silent treatment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm going to be posting a couple chapters of [a bunch of different AUs](http://archiveofourown.org/series/866496) and trying to decide which to focus on (other than this one). Right now I just have one chapter of a [Altaen Lance AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12644580), but there will be more.
> 
> Also, originally y'all were just not gonna know wtf Shiro was up to until like Ch. 10, but now I might have to add chapters because I got all sorts of ideas (why can't I keep fanfics the size they're supposed to be???). lol
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Space battles! Pew pew pew!


	6. Into the Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lance is fed up with waiting, and he's going to do something about it (and that something will probably be stupid, but he can't be blamed for that)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual this ended up broken into two chapters because there is only so much I can predict how much I'm gonna ramble! Subsequently there will likely be 13-14 chapters not 10. Hope you all don't mind! I keep thinking of new things to add! Hahaha

        After his talk with Ulaz, Lance felt so full of the vastness of the universe. He was filled to the brim with the grand history, the deep tradition of The Blade, the importance of his lion and being its pilot. He was bursting with all of it. Then he was thrown back into the silence. He was a part of something important, _he_ was important, but he wasn’t doing anything.

        After another couple of weeks in space, Lance moved on from despair to just plain annoyed. Nothing changed. He knew all the secrets of the universe and was stuck in a little room and the handful of corridors to get to Blue. He had bonded with an ancient super weapon, and he couldn’t fly it! He was supposed to be saving the universe, and he was eating space oatmeal alone!

        It was absurd. He was angry. He told Mcshutupington this on multiple occasions. He knew he wouldn’t respond, but that was part of why he felt free to complain.

         “You know, did you guys ever think maybe I’m the only one Blue will let in, because I’m a total badass and you’re all missing out?” he asked.

        No response.

         “Because, if _I_ found the pilot for a super weapon, part of some ancient defenders of the galaxy, I’d let them go out and do their thing,” he went on.

        No response.

         “You know, save some galaxies. Rescue hot alien babes. Captain Kirk it up with some green chicks—or… are all aliens purple?” he asked. He paused, looking directly at his watcher’s mask as if trying to see through it. “Anyway-,”

        A loud blaring noise sounded over his next words. Lance jumped and had to stumble to keep from falling out of his chair, barely catching his feet under him.

         “What’s going on? What does that mean?” he asked in a rush, eyes wide and darting around as red flashed in the gray and blue dining hall. He’d wanted more color, but not like this! He wanted happy colors, a brightly painted accent wall, not screeching alarms making him feel trapped in the large empty room.

         “We’re under attack.”

        A full sentence.

        Lance wished he had time to appreciate it, savor it. Instead he was running behind Mcshutupington, and barely keeping up, because _wow_ , the guy could book it. His long legs were the only saving grace he had. Still, he was glad they didn’t have too far to run, or he’d have lost sight of him. He would have found his way there anyway, given all the aliens that came flooding out of the woodwork.

        Lance, in his isolation, had started to think there really were only a handful of occupants on the ship. He hadn’t seen a single one since he’d arrived, other than the watch assigned to him and Ulaz that one time. Now he saw dozens, and the number was growing, spilling out through the halls and into a large docking bay filled with little sharp fighter ships.

        Mcshutupington disappeared into the crowd. With them all dressed the same, he had no hope of finding him again. He felt lost. Despite only a few words being returned, he’d grown accustom to his watcher. They’d had plenty of conversations, albeit heavily one sided in Lance’s favor. He’d formed an attachment to him as the only other living creature. Now he was alone in a sea of aliens who all had orders and training, and Lance was just there.

         “Where should I go?” he shouted to no one in particular. No one spared him a second glance, as aliens boarded their fighters and manned their stations. For all the mess of people and crossing of paths, they moved with a marvelous efficiency. They were a vision of trained perfection. Responding to lost little humans wasn’t in that training.

         “Seriously! What’s going on? Where do I go to help?” he tried again. Lance was surprised to get a response. A figure loomed over him and he shivered at the silent mass he could feel behind him. Night Vision Goggles had found him.

         “You should go to your room,” he answered, “You will be in the way.” Then he kept walking. Lance wasn’t sure what else to do, but the dismissal burned at the back of his brain, old wounds pulling open. He stuck out his tongue as the alien passed. Childish, sure, but it felt good to do. It lessened the tension trying to rip his ego apart.

        He backed out of the entrance so he wouldn’t be ‘in the way’, but he pointedly did not go back to his room. Instead, he went to find someone less grumpy who he could ask how to help. Unfortunately, everyone stepped with purpose and precision, and Lance found it was hard to find someone who looked like they had even a moment to spare. As ship after ship shot out of the bay, he was left with a dwindling number of options. He started to wander, looking for somewhere to be of use.

        Lance eventually found a small communications room looking over the bay to one side and a cluttered mess of screens on the other. Laid out in what looked to be an indecipherable mess at first glance, were the tactical screens, battle updates, ship statuses, communications, all together in a disorienting clutter.

         “Dampener up. Dampener up. Keep all enemies in zone,” said the rooms only occupant, who was too busy to even put on their mask when Lance entered. The alien was purple like Ulaz, but their face was a darker shade and rounder. Their ears shot out in large tufts of black fuzz from the sides of their head, and were smooshed under a headset. They were too busy to even look back and see who had entered. So, Lance was left to take in the rush of stimuli both verbal and visual, at his leisure. His eyes some time to adjust and understand the 3-D coordinates in space on the 2-D screen, but he caught on soon enough.

         “Why do ships keep disappearing when they aren’t engaged?” he muttered to himself. He let his eyes wander over the screen, trying to get a feel for the fight. Things started to look less overwhelming. The darting dots and lights started to come together to feel like an actual battle in his head. Then he saw something. He sprung forward, one hand to the operator’s chair, the other pointing urgently, “There! That guy there!” he said.

        The alien jerked, eyes darting from the stranger frantically gesturing over his shoulder to the screen. His yellow eyes widened as he saw the ship trying to finish a formation that would lock in a group of Blade Fighters.

         “Wing four. Tumble center. Forward pos comp. Redist,” he relayed an urgent slew of recommendations. The signals on the screen reacted. Disaster was averted and Lance was just happy he’d deciphered which signals were for which side correctly.

        The Galra glanced back at him for a brief moment, but Lance didn’t have time to read his expression before their attention was back on the screen. Lance followed suit but soon found himself increasingly irritated that he could only watch. The alien was relaying battle information in a rhythmic chanting pattern. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be out there helping. This didn’t feel like enough.

        Lance pushed off the chair after what felt like an eternity, but in reality was closer to 30 seconds. He heard the complaints and saw the Blade signals flickering out on the screen for no apparent reason, still. Something was taking them out that wasn’t showing up on the battle field read outs. He had to _do_ something.

        His feet took him back down towards the docking bay and then out towards a ship. He stared at it or another eternity, or 30 seconds, before throwing caution to the wind. They needed one more guy out there. He’d seen the battle. He knew what was happening. They needed him.

        Lance took in a deep breath and then climbed into the fighter. He plopped himself down in the seat and thanked all that was good that he’d spent the last few weeks getting to know Blue. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he’d even know where the ignition was. The little fighter’s controls weren’t a perfect match to the lions. There was a similarity in sensibility between the two controls, traits long passed down through the lineage of space ships.

         “I’m taking off,” he said, feeling like he should at least tell the headset guy. It seemed polite.

         “Taking off? Who’s taking off?” a startled voice replied.

         “Me! Lance! I’m going?” he replied, unsure even as he gunned it and shot out of the dock. The ship had more pick up than he was expecting

         “WHOOOOO!” He shouted in surprise as much as excitement, blocking out the questions for his ID and what he thought he was doing. In a blink of an eye, he was in the very center of everything _._ “Okay! Time for Lance to save the day!” he announced to himself. Then he took in the scene around him.

         “Oh…” His eyes widened as he realized this was very, very different than looking at the battle on screens. Ships and laser blasts shot past and around him in a blur of colors and his screens screamed alerts and options he had no idea what they meant. He hadn’t even had the chance to take in the array of stimuli before he was struck, sending him spiraling to the side. He clipped another ship on the way, unsure if it was friend or foe. He shouted as the battle spun and his ship screamed damage reports at him.

         “Crap,” he muttered, hands flying over the console as he tried to regain control. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes shooting from the controls to the diagnostics to the view and battle. “Shit. Shitshitshit,” he said, his chant picking up speed along with his panic.

        He was useless. Beyond useless, he was a hazard to others. What had he been thinking? Why did he think he could just fly out here and be _useful_ just because some giant robo-lion liked him? How stupid could he be? He was going to get himself killed and maybe someone else in the process.

        With a yank of a lever, his view stilled and he found himself on the edge of the battle area, the left side of his screen screaming his left thruster’s damage at him insistently. He didn’t know how to tell the damn thing he knew and ‘ _thank you but shut up’_. He tried to catch his breath despite the chaos around him.

         “Shit,” he let out a final breath. He was useless. He would have no maneuverability now. He had no idea how he would be helpful, and that was assuming no one came and picked him off for just sitting there. His ship would, hopefully look damaged enough for the enemy ships to ignore him in favor of more active ships. He flicked the skirmish in front of him, a less impressive version of the one on the main ship, transparently pulled up over his view screen.

        That’s when he saw it. A flicker of a signal and then his eyes darted to the coordinates out in the real world. Something was there. A shimmer caught his eye for just a moment, a thin purple streak shot out. Something was just barely visible for a moment. Back on his screen, another Blade signal flickered out.

         “Hey guys!” he said, flicking on the coms. He was met with a wave of orders, demanding he return to the ship immediately. “No but there’s a-,” a louder set of orders. “Yeah, but there’s a-” NVG was now ignoring him. A ‘signal cut’ informational blip popped up over his screen with a snipped wire visual in case he needed clarity. He was out of the conversation. Lance growled.

         “Fine,” he snipped. He took a deep breath in, assessing the battle ahead of him. He told himself this was no different than the simulator. Then he remembered he crashed about as many times as not. He told himself this was different. “Yeah, more dangerous,” he muttered. More importantly, he wasn’t sure how well he could move with his damaged thruster.

        He glanced down at his controls and flicked up the artillery. There was a long range shot. That might help. He pulled up the screen and found the approximate coordinates again. He didn’t think he could see anything, even with the long range screen enhancing his view. It was not just the other side of the skirmish, but further, hidden. He caught the sight of something, a tiny distortion moving. The thin string of purple light appeared again.

        There. That was it.

        Lance shifted the screen, took his aim, breathed, and hoped that nothing got in the way of his shot. A split second later there was a burst of light on the other side of battle field. With a dying flicker, a small vessel came into view briefly before it blew apart.

         “WHOOO!” the triumphant scream burst from his very soul. “Yeah! Look at that shot! You are CLEAR of the sniper, my guys!” he cried triumphantly into the comms, even if he wasn’t connected to the main channel anymore. He hoped he at least was still going to headset guy. He was cool, he’d relay the message.

        The skirmish shifted dramatically after ships were no longer being mysteriously picked off. Focus could be reallocated. There were certainly a lot of other factors going on in the battle as well, but that didn’t lessen Lance’s smugness. He even managed to get one more good shot in, snuffing out a fleeing ship’s engines as they glistened for an escape as their comrades dwindled. He did this from his safe little corner of the battle, of course. He still didn’t trust himself in the midst of things again, not yet. He’d been overwhelmed in that moment he’d been truly in the fray, and still felt almost nauseous thinking of the spinning. He wondered if that was how Hunk felt every time.

        Then he stopped thinking about Hunk.

 

        There was some chatter on the comms as things were cleared up. Lance found that every scrap of destroyed Blade ship had to be recovered, and preferably all evidence that anything had been there at all. The comm also became less scratchy when the last ship had been destroyed. A dampening on transmissions was lifted off the area once there was no enemy combatants to send distress signals. There was a cold efficiency to how all the destroyed ships were collected. No evidence, no times spared to mourn. The skirmish had been small, but there were still men lost.

         “50 ticks after Squad 4 returns will signal the jump. Remaining debris will be vaporized,” NVG’s harsh voice informed over the comms. Lance felt that ‘remaining debris’ could easily include him or any other member of the blade if he didn’t hightail it back to the ship. “Detonation is set 10 ticks past jump.”

        Lance felt the urgency and he bolstered his little damaged ships engines to life to move him back towards the docking bay. He wasn’t sure how long 50 ticks were, but it didn’t _sound_ long and he didn’t know who was ‘Squad 4’, still figuring out his screens on the little fighter. So, he gunned it and his ship leapt forward. He managed to only barely yank her to a stop just before crashing to the left of the docking bay door, a little shock of adrenaline ran through him as he stared at the heavy metal barely a foot from the nose of his ship. With care, he eased the ship to the side and gently laid her down in an empty slot. He had no idea if it was the appropriate place to park her, but he was happy just to have gotten her back at all, especially after she stuttered and struggled against the re-entry into gravity with only one good thruster.

 

        Lance hopped out of his fighter feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Despite a rocky start he’d done pretty amazing, if he did say so himself. Which he did, as he was climbing down from the ship. He cringed a little at the scarred left thruster as it moaned and the hanging bits settled under the artificial gravity of the ship. It had managed to stay intact in the void of space, but it looked more likely to fall off now.

        Other than halfway to destroying the fighter, he’d done good! He grinned and thought about how wrong he’d just proved Iverson and every other teacher in that stupid flight program. He’d always told them, just put him out into space and he’d KNOW what to do.

        A crash made Lance leap the rest of the way down the ladder and skitter away from the sparking left wing of the fighter. The whole thruster hadn’t fallen off, but the bottom casing sure had. So, maybe he still had a few things to learn, but after the minor heart attack passed, he was ready to pat himself on the back again.

         “What were you doing out there.” The voice ran through him colder than any shout or scream from Iverson ever had. The words were not just dunked, but soaked in a quiet, seething disapproval.

        Lance felt his back straightening despite himself as he turned to find NVG, no mask, no hood. His yellow eyes had no pupils or irises, like Ulaz’s, but his felt so much more intense.  The red across his brow creased down over his purple face to make up for the lack of eyebrows in making him look deathly serious. He even had a giant scar across one of his eyes, old and faded, like a cliché badass! Lance couldn’t even relish the alien hilariously living up to stereotypes, though, because he was terrified.

         “I-was-Iwas helping!” Lance stammered out, wondering where all that confidence from earlier had gone. He was so sure he’d done the right thing. He couldn’t even remember what he was proud of now under the disapproving, yellow eyes glowering at him.

         “You were disobeying orders,” NVG said, voice eating away at Lance’s last frail walls of defense like acid. Lance could barely swallow, let alone get a word out. “Return to your rooms and do not leave until you are called for.”

        Lance started at this, shocked out of his fear at the cold words. “Wait, but what if I want to visit Blue!” he protested. It wasn’t like he was ever able to go anywhere except his room, the dining hall, and Blue anyway, but cutting off those small escapes made space suddenly feel very claustrophobic.

         “To your room,” he repeated.

         “No! Hold up! What about Blue?” he insisted. “Since when am I a prisoner?” Indignation rose in him. He’d known from the beginning he didn’t have too much of a choice but to come. After hearing the rest of the story from Ulaz, he’d become even more sure of this. Before they had had the decency to pretend and ask, at least. This time it was a command and something inside Lance stirred, overcoming his trepidations. The pit of his stomach churned with nerves and determination as he stepped forward, before he lost it.

         “I came here to help you guys! I agreed to leave my home because I was supposed to be saving the galaxy! And helping you guys! And you know what? I just did!” he was rushing all his words out. He knew he should breathe between words, but he was a breath away from shrinking under that unblinking stare. “I took out the sniper and stopped that last ship from escaping! Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve been a secret for 10,000 years if you’re this _sloppy_! So, I think you meant: thank you Lance! Let me give you not our crappiest bed and a raise for saving our asses out there!”

        Silence settled between them, and after a moment, Lance realized it had settled over the entire docking bay. He was afraid to turn around and see the frozen yellow eyes and blue glowing masks staring at him. He could feel the stillness in the air. No one yelled at NVG. He was suddenly very certain of that. It was too late to turn back now. He took in a deep breath and stared back.

         “You were an unacceptable liability, useful or not. You are not trained,” NVG finally spoke, after an eternity (30 seconds) of his eyes burning holes into Lance.

         “Train me!” Lance burst in response. Another silence, but this one was less painful. The world moved around them again, people slowly, carefully returning to their duties.

        The only response Lance received were NVG’s creepy eyes narrowing to glare at him.

         “Well, then you better give me something else to do,” Lance informed, his paralyzing fear passing when NVG didn’t toss him out of the airlock for the outburst. “Because otherwise I’m going to have to keep finding my own way to help.”

        There was a quiet huff out of NVG’s nostrils and he stepped aside as Ulaz joined the group. “He wants to be trained,” he informed the other alien.

         “I heard from the other side of the docking bay,” Ulaz assured. Lance felt heat creeping up to his face. Ulaz’s opinion felt more real than anyone else’s on the ship to Lance. “And what do you think? He has saved us twice already,” he reminded. The tone didn’t praise, it assessed. These were facts. Lance still felt the swell of pride from long, torturous minutes ago, returning to his chest. NVG must have sensed it. He turned to Lance.

         “Your room.”

        This time Lance complied. He’d said his piece, and the order didn’t sound like a prison sentence any longer. He lingered, hoping still that Ulaz would protest, but when he didn’t Lance scooted on past the two of them and towards the hallway. He didn’t know the way to his room, but a little wandering would do him good.

 

         “He is not one of us,” the grim alien reminded when the human had left.

         “He is not,” Ulaz agreed too easily. There was a catch to that statement. “We have fought 10,000 years without help outside of our own order. Maybe it is time we need a shift in perspective.” Ulaz had always suggested change too suddenly. He didn’t lose his logic, at least, despite this. So, his words were considered seriously.

         “We have not lost in those 10,000 years,” he reminded.

         “We have not stopped the Empire from collecting more and more systems into its grasp either, Kolivan,” Ulaz pointed out. Kolivan wanted to snarl at that, but he didn’t, because it was true. Ulaz was rarely wrong, but often misguided.

         “Why is now the time to risk everything we have worked for?” he asked.

         “Because once one domino falls the next does not wait for you to consider your options. It simply tumbles towards the next in turn,” he replied. Ulaz had always taken The Blade’s obscure and secretive nature as an excuse to speak in poetic metaphors. Kolivan had always found that the same effect could be gained by simply speaking less. All the same, Ulaz had a way of getting his point across concisely despite some unnecessary whimsy.

         “You think the lions will continue to be found.” He did not need to ask. He understood what Ulaz meant. Still, he responded.

         “I think it is ill advised not to take advantage of an opportunity. You have already sent away one, there is only so many times the universe can offer us it’s hands before it will feel scorned.” There it was. His poetry crossing over into romanticisms. Kolivan let out a ‘tsk’, but he didn’t argue. The words were not untrue. They could not afford to ignore assets.

         “Then we give him the trial. I will make sure he knows it is your idea,” he said, teasing despite no shift in his voice or expression. Ulaz’s eyes shot to him.

         “Train him first,” he spoke it as a command, but it was a plea. Kolivan snorted.

         “That could take decafeebs. He is small and weak,” he reminded.

         “I know more of humans than you,” Ulaz reminded. “They are trainable.”

         “This is not your one-armed human. That one was a fighter,” he interjected. It was unrealistic to compare the two humans. This one was not yet grown, or from a frailer stock. The scarred one, Shiro, he had been a soldier at heart.

         “And you sent him away. Have this one trained before you judge him,” he suggested, mildly. Kolivan wanted to growl again, but he had seen the shot the human had made. He’d hit a cloaked target at an impossible distance. It might have been luck, or he might be useful. He had already made up his mind on the matter long before Ulaz had come to convince him.

         “Antok will assign his trainers. There is not time to coddle him. He might give up before he is ready,” Kolivan informed.

        Ulaz nodded, but said, “I do not think so, but we will see.”

 

 

        Lance was on the floor. The bed was marginally softer, but the floor felt right for his mood. He’d just shouted down a scary, burly Alien general dude. It was like living out one of his dreams about telling Iverson off. It was just as terrifying as he imagined it would have been back on Earth. It was invigorating too. He had also been sent to his room, like he was a kid.

        It was a strange combination and his brain hadn’t settled on how to feel about the event yet. So, he laid down on the floor, stretched himself out, and tried to feel the ship. He tried to feel the fact that they were moving through the void of space at a speed he couldn’t even fathom. He tried to feel all of that nothing around him and the line connecting him all the way back to Earth, and home.

        He hadn’t dared to turn on his phone since he realized that, while he might have remembered a charger, shoved in the backpack he’d taken traipsing across the desert with him, there was no place to plug it in. This meant he had precious few hours’ worth of time with it.

        Lance rolled over to the bag he’d shoved between his bed and the nightstand. Moving as little as possible, he wiggled forward and stretched so he could rifle through it. He pulled out his phone and a tangle of earbuds, which dragged out with it pens, wrappers, and a couple of paperclips from the depths of his pack with it. He shook these extras away and quickly detangled the cord.

        Lance shimmied back towards the middle of the room and held the power button until his phone flickered to life, logos bouncing around brightly to greet him. He let out a laugh of relief at something so silly and so _human_. He wasn’t sure if the rest of space was as grim as these aliens, but it felt like he’d already forgotten the joy of silly materialism in less than a month. He had to blink a few times to keep his eyes in line. He was just looking at logos for goodness sake! He would not cry over _logos._

        As soon as the phone started up he was greeted with a picture of Hunk and him making ‘handsome’ faces. His heart seized in his chest and he flicked the lock screen away, glad that he had something else set to his background. Stars, space, and a Galaxy Garrison logo hid behind his icons. It was easier to look at.

        There was only one thing he wanted to do. He pushed aside his instincts to open every social media app first thing. It was ingrained for him to do when picking up his phone, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. At best they wouldn’t work. He was far outside of the reach of any wifi. At worst, the last page he had open would be lingering there, or some profile picture would be up that included his family and his friends. He couldn’t deal with that, not yet.

        Instead he found his music, and thanked all that was good that he’d downloaded at least a few songs onto his phone. It wasn’t his full playlists, those were perfectly crafted in apps that he wouldn’t have any access to. These were just a few stray songs. Luckily, they were the important ones.

        With earbuds in place and eyes closed, he spread himself out on the floor again and hit play. He wasn’t sure what the first song would be, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in weeks, he needed to be home. In that moment, he could be laid out on any floor anywhere. He could be in his dorm room, his home, or somewhere he’d never been. It didn’t matter, because it could be Earth. He was anywhere he wanted to be, just him and the music.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you're still enjoying this story! I'm _almost_ to the parts I started this whole story to write! So, stay tuned!
> 
> HMU here or on [my tumblr](http://avagueidea.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat some voltron AU!
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Lance starts his training and Keith plans a sleepover ( ~~do you think they'll play truth or dare?~~ ).


	7. Forward Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lance starts his Training, and the Crew back on Earth figure out what to do with the escape pod._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this came out longer than I was expecting, but I ended up squeezing a lot in this chapter!
> 
> I'll be travelling and running around a lot over the holidays, so next chapter might be slow.
> 
> As always! I love to hear from you guys! Comments, questions, headcanons??? Hmu in the comment section!

        When Ulaz had told Lance he was going to be trained, he could have kissed the alien right on his purple face. That was until he learned that Ulaz would have nothing to do with his training.

         “I am going to be leaving on an mission, but Kolivan has agreed to make sure your training is thorough,” he was explaining.

         “Mr. Serious?” Lance asked, frowning at the thought of NVG having his fate in his hands.

         “Yes,” Ulaz said, not batting an eye at the nickname. Sensing Lance’s unease, he went on. “He has agreed to put Antok in charge of teaching. He has coordinated the training of all of our recruits for many cycles,” he informed. Lance felt his tension ease a little. “And Kolivan has agreed that you are to be in one piece when I return,” he said.

        Lance was reassured.

         “Though we have agreed that missing small appendages, which do not impair basic functionality, such as toes or some nonessential fingers, would not be counted against that promise,” he tagged on.

        Lance was less reassured.

         “Or if things may be reattached in a timely enough manner to prevent long-term recovery or permanent damage,” Ulaz added as well.

        Lance was no longer any semblance of reassured. He stared back, feeling a vague sense of horror at the idea of these terms and conditions being hashed out.

         “You will be fine. We rarely lose people in training exercises... Well-,” Ulaz began. Lance cut him off this time, throwing his hands up between them.

        "I don't need to hear it!" he burst. "Just say, 'everything will be fine, Lance' okay?" he said.

        Ulaz paused to consider the request before he nodded and repeated, “Everything will be fine, Lance.” Lance nodded back with a single, solid nod.

        They parted with a firm handshake, Ulaz’s second hand clamping over his, wrapping his large, clawed hands around Lance’s. The gesture felt hopeful, and just a little clingy. Still, Lance appreciated it, and hoped it wouldn’t be his last full fingered handshake, since apparently losing appendages was a possibility.

 

~*~*~

 

        Hunk quickly realized Keith was impatient and bad at texting. His texts were frequent and, more often than not, only one or two vague words. They always sounded frustrated and stinted because, even for those incomplete, two word sentences, he threw a period in. The punctuation only cut his already brief responses off with an undo curtness. Hunk remembered he was about the same in person the couple of times they’d met before all this. It wasn’t rude, but it bordered on it, only managing to edge its way out of insulting by the clear lack of malicious intent.

        While Keith only gave one or two words at a time, Pidge made up for it with his incessant chatter. Now that they had a lead on the Kerberos case, he’d exploded open. He needed an outlet for these thoughts and feelings. Seeing as how the Garrison was apparently covering up what had really happened, Keith was still basically a cryptid, and the rest of the school knew nothing about it, that left Hunk. He didn’t really mind. The guy was sort of endearing when he got going. He got a conspiracy theory, the pyramids were built by aliens, sort of glint in his eyes and went off whenever they were alone together. This was to say, Pidge had taken to invading Hunk’s room more and more often.

        It was sort of nice. Being woken up at 2 am not so much, but having someone… there. Someone to fill the void of his room with chatter, he liked that. It helped because Hunk still wasn’t sure how to deal with the idea that Lance was _in space_. It felt surreal. He’d tried, but he couldn’t get a solid grip on the concept, it just felt hazy in his mind. The thought couldn’t settle enough to make it concrete.

        In some ways, he knew he was keeping the idea fuzzy on purpose, in case it stopped being true. If he didn’t acknowledge it for long enough, he thought it might just fizzle out as a concept and Lance would stroll back in one evening. Unfortunately, he kept waking up to an empty bunkbed instead. There was no clamor of an extensive morning skin routine going on in their bathroom. No angry storming in over a bullshit comment from Iverson. No singing too loud so he could hear himself over his headphones. At least when Pidge stayed over there was chatter until late, and his grumbling disapproval of the alarm clock, followed by hitting snooze about 5 times the next morning. It should have been annoying, but it made the room feel less lonely.

        A few days into his Lanceless existence, Hunk came to the conclusion that he could not focus, in any way shape or form, on his lectures. After all the questioning and tearing apart what was left of Lance in his room, they’d at least had the kindness to notice he was distressed. Hunk wasn’t good at hiding worry. Luckily, he had enough reasonable things to be worried about. His lack of a poker face didn’t give away their secret escapades into the desert, or the hidden alien spacecraft under a tarp next to Keith’s shed, or Lance running off with aliens. So, they offered him the councilor instead of interrogating him for treason. He wasn’t sure if it was _actually_ treason to salvage a ship from outer space if the government was clearly looking for it, but it seemed like the sort of thing people disappeared for in conspiracy theories.

        He didn’t end up going to the councilor. He couldn’t talk to them about what was really bothering him, so Hunk didn’t see the point. He probably should have at least taken the soft, pitying looks from the teachers and gotten some easy As and maybe taken some personal days. Instead, he kept going to classes and had to just shrug and try not to burst out everything whenever someone asked where Lance was, and they asked a lot.

        Hunk couldn’t blame people for coming to him for answers. Lance and he had been inseparable. They’d been bros since freshman year. Of course, bros or not, most people just knew they’d shared a dorm and were on a simulator crew together, and that was good enough to come to him for the inside scoop. So, even if Lance hadn’t been, without a doubt, the best friend Hunk had ever had, he would have still faced the onslaught of gossip mongers and conspiracy theorists.

         Lance would have been happy about one thing, at least. He was certainly more talked about than Keith. Keith had gotten kicked out, sure, but Lance had disappeared. Most students assumed the mobilization and lockdown had something to do with him as well. Rumors went wild, from Lance running off to hunt and/or join Keith as a cryptid living in the desert, to Lance being a foreign agent sent to spy on the young military recruits. Hunk wished he could enjoy the rumors more, but they were too hard to listen too when the real thing was so much stranger.

        Class, socializing, everything except eating and sleeping had become impossible. Instead of notes, his hand was constantly scribbling down thoughts and plans. Pidge had set a program up to try to crack into the escape pods deepest darkest encrypted secrets, and left it running when they’d had to leave Keith and the alien craft. Hunk found himself wondering, if it’d worked, what it had found already. Pidge was communicating with Keith about it, but the details were scarce. Hunk wanted to be there, tearing the thing apart with Keith.

        Pidge and Hunk, in their free time, had scrapped together a portable detector for the unique signals they had been picking up. They weren’t as distinctive as the Lion Ship’s, but there was definitely something else to be found, Keith thought. Between Keith’s intel, Pidge’s nerdiness, and Hunk’s brilliance, the project hadn’t taken long. The problem was, after Lance’s official disappearance and the strange crash and UFOs popping up, The Galaxy Garrison was on high alert. This made it impossible, even for Pidge, to get out of the school secretly. So, they just had to wait.

 

~*~*~

 

        Lance was woken up early. Or, his internal clock said it was early. He’d asked about a clock before, but realized quickly it wouldn’t mean anything to him. That and his silent watcher hadn’t responded to the question or any of the hand gestures he’d used to explain it. As it turned out, communicating the concept of time via charades was a challenging endeavor, not that he would have gotten anything but a blank stare even if he’d managed to move time and space itself through interpretive hand gesturing. At the time, he’d been unsure if all the aliens could understand him, but after many failed attempts he finally asked point blank, weather his watcher understood what he was saying at all.

         “Yes,” was the only answer he’d gotten. He hadn’t spoken again after that, possibly scared off by the barrage of chatter that excitedly attacked him after his single word.

        Lance had fallen back on his internal clock after that. Lance Standard Time (LST) became a combination of his body’s internal rhythms combined with meal timings. He couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain that he was brought to the dining hall the same time every day for meals by his silent guide. He couldn’t say how long a day was in LST, but he thought they couldn’t be _too_ far off earth days, because he’d adjusted to them fairly quickly.

        So, when his brain told him ‘ignore the door opening, it’s still sleeping time’, he believed it. He was shocked out of his sleep when a low, gravelly voice he didn’t recognize spoke. He’d grown so accustomed to his room being a place of silence, save for his own voice, that it felt for a moment like an intrusion, or a dream. It felt wrong, and then excitement replaced that wrongness as the words filter through his groggy brain.

         “Follow me. We will begin your training now.”

        Lance shot up and onto his feet and fought the wave of dizziness that followed. He was too gangly for jumping out of bed, his blood flow didn’t have time to catch up to his sudden verticalness, and it had little practice starting awake. Lance was a slow waker. He was all languid stretches and long thoughtful yawns on a normal day. He swayed but held his ground against his bodies complaints.

         “Training? Right now? What am I training in? Are you teaching me how to use the fighter ships?” he asked, astonished by his own perkiness at whatever god forsaken hour it must have been.

         “No,” the alien replied simply, and gestured for Lance to follow him out the door. Lance wasn’t even bothered by the curtness anymore. He was too excited at the prospect of _doing_ something. He was pulling off his pajama shirt then paused.

         “Uhm, what do I wear to training? Like, can I wear jeans? Are those acceptable training clothes? Is this physical training? Do I need a space suit?” he asked, spitting out his jumble of thoughts without filter. He’d managed to grow chattier in the silence, filling it rather than succumbing to it. He found himself verbalizing every thought aloud, rather than taking a moment to create a more concise version of the thought. The new comer didn’t seem to mind.

         “Training uniforms will be provided,” he explained. Lance nodded and took a moment to look at what the alien was wearing, and really, at the alien at all. The guy had a tail, but instead of crocodile like, like Sobek’s, it looked more like a lion’s; thin, with a little tuft at the end. He was also a brick wall. All of the aliens had seemed large, but this one had shoulders that could kill a man if he bumped into them in the halls. He’d be intimidating if the swoosh and flick of the tail didn’t betray an excitement that the uniform otherwise hid. Lance grinned.

         “All right, let’s go! Time to show you all just how much of a badass I am,” Lance announced, all fatigue driven away by excitement. He was _doing something_ , and maybe more importantly, people were _talking to him_. Well, one person at least, but it was promising. It was a start.

 

        Lance was walked to the training room. Instead of his usual: straight, straight, left, left, right (the path he’d long since memorized to get to Blue), he took a right and went down a long hall to an unmarked door. Of course, they were all unmarked, which seemed incredibly inconvenient given how unremarkable all the hallways were. He committed the directions to memory, giddy to add a new one to his otherwise depressingly short list of places he could get to on the alien ship.

        He was handed a body suit to wear, though it didn’t have any of the cool glowy bits of all the one’s he’d seen other people wearing. Maybe he hadn’t earned his cool glowy bits yet. He’d be worthy of them soon enough, he was sure. He already was trying to decide if he’d need the weird third eye on his mask when he got his. It looked cool, even if he still hadn’t figured out any practical reason for it, now that he’d seen NVG didn’t _have_ a third eye.

        Once Lance had struggled his way into his suit, a deep bluish gray thing that made him wish his biceps and every vanity muscle was as impressive as his lion tailed guide, he was led on. When the door to the main room slid open, Lance was surprised. It wasn’t shocking that the training room had actual physical training going on. The aliens were too ripped for them to be relying solely on starships and advanced weaponry. What surprised him was that the sight before him was oddly beautiful, given it was a room full of people fighting.

        Like everywhere else, the lighting was just a little too dim and blue to see right, but it only enhanced the effect of the glowing patches streaming and flowing around the room like a piece of living, breathing art. Every movement, though there were dozens of different sparring sessions going on, flowed like an orchestra, is if it were all coordinated together. When Lance finally got over the wide view, he realized the details were no less entrancing to watch. Most of the aliens seemed to favor knifes, or daggers. Lance wasn’t entirely sure of the technical difference. The blades moved out of them like an extension of self. They were water, flowing and perfect, then like ice, sharp and stinging.

        Lance felt himself drawn to it, wanting to be able to be as beautiful as all of them, to fit into whatever dance they were performing. He wasn’t allowed to join them, though. He was led away from the large open training room to a much smaller side room. He might be lightyears away from home and on an alien space ship, but in an instant Lance recognized the universal signs of a class room.

         “You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Lance groaned, as he was led to a desk. He flung himself down, waiting for the powerpoint presentation to start and wondering if he’d have to write an essay on Space Gatsby and what the green laser across the nebula stood for. He had left school to save the galaxy, but the joke was on him, because here he was again.

 

~*~*~

 

        It was absurd that when the entire known world was shifting. Humanity changing forever because it was suddenly part of something _bigger_. That Keith had to put everything on hold… because his coconspirators were sitting in a classroom.

        He had to wait 3 excruciating weeks for Pidge and Hunk to escape the Garrison again. He wondered why they didn’t just walk out, but he supposed not everyone was willing to give up their education for this. He admitted it was reasonable given he could not define what ‘this’ was, exactly. It wasn’t like any of what they were teaching them at school mattered now. If they could crack this ship open and figure out how it worked, figure out what else might be out in the desert, they could be doing much more important things than simulators and pop quizzes. They might even be in space soon, deep space. The answers, the project, it all felt so much more important than school. He felt like he was on the precipice of something, and he just needed to take a few more steps to plunge into it all, falling into the unknown.

        Not everyone was like him, though. Most people weren’t in fact. He had to remind himself of that time and time again. It was just difficult for Keith to imagine people couldn’t see the bigger picture. _This_ , what they had discovered, what was hiding under a tarp next to his house, was important. He knew they agreed. Yet, here he was, alone with possibly mankind’s most important discovery, and they weren’t here to help him unlock it.

        By the time Pidge and Hunk could finally escape the Garrison, Pidge’s program had run its course and Keith was left with a plethora of data that he had no idea how to begin to translate into real people speak. He wasn’t computer illiterate, but whatever Pidge had done was so far beyond normal tech stuff that he wouldn’t have known how to begin to navigate it all. So, when Pidge texted saying that they were on their way over, Keith felt energized. With Pidge there to translate, they could start unwrapping it. He could take a few more steps towards the edge.

 

        Upon arrival, Pidge just tossed Keith an energy drink that they served at the Garrison cafeteria and nowhere else as far as Keith could tell. Pidge then proceeded directly to the computer attached by twisted ropes of cords into various places under the pried off control panel. Hunk went to the pod itself to start looking it over. Keith appreciated their straight forward work ethic, even if they had taken a while to get to it.

        Soon, Hunk called Keith over to help him pry off a loose metal sheet. Without awkward pause or confusing small talk, the two had walked into his house and they had all started working. Before Keith realized it, the day had passed and Pidge was being dragged away from the computer. Keith could have sworn the freshman hissed when Hunk picked them up to carry them away. Hunk pulled up a fist and when Keith frowned and matched the gesture, he knocked them together.

         “We’ll be back tomorrow. Gotta be in for nightly checks, though, _right Pidge_ ,” he said turning and raising his voice at the end. Pidge had started to scramble back to the computer. Keith didn’t remember ‘nightly checks’, but he supposed security was a little different nowadays.

         “I’m almost done. I just need to get past one more-,” Pidge started to ramble off computer terms and Keith stopped listening.

         “Pidge, you can stay up all night like the little gremlin you are tomorrow, when Lee sets up our cover so we can spend the night,” Hunk said, sighing. Pidge made a face, but picked themself up with a sigh.

        Keith realized, when they left, that he hadn’t really felt as uncomfortable as he normally did on group projects. This wasn’t a school project, of course, but anytime he’d had to have coworkers or teammates it had felt so forced. They always wanted to talk about weather and movies and things that had nothing to do with the project. It wasn’t that these two didn’t talk about other things, but they didn’t give Keith odd looks for only tuning in for the important parts. They didn’t ask him weird questions. They just worked and let him work.

        Keith felt a little upset that they were leaving. Odder still, Keith felt a little excited they were coming back the next day to stay the night. He realized he didn’t have anything except his couch to sleep on, and one blanket. That didn’t exactly suit three people sleeping in the little shack. He might have a cot he could dig out of the generator room, but that was still only two. He considered getting food as well. He could live on cold cans of soup, but that felt weird to offer to guests Pidge had brought some chips. He wondered if he could find the same sort in the tiny convenience store in the one road town a few miles out.

        With his mind racing he nearly missed the goodbyes being offered until Hunk patted his shoulder roughly. His mind leapt back to reality feeling just on the edge of nervous.

         “Wha-oh yeah. Tomorrow,” he agreed, nodding.

 

~*~*~

 

        Lance had never been the straight A’s kid. He was more the straight B’s kid. An A would slip in, a C would slip in, but the vast majority of his schooling career had painted him as a decisively B rank student. It was where he naturally plateaued. Trying to push himself to an A usually was a practice in frustration. He’d take a running leap towards it, but always end up dragged back down to earth. In the same breath, though, falling below a B took quite a bit of active neglect for him. He generally had to take a spiteful jump off the edge of the plateau to drop lower. So, he usually stayed right in that B range.

        There were, of course, exceptions on both sides, such as precalc and Modern Tactics & Warfare. The former Lance had only passed by the skin of his teeth, and almost entirely thanks to Hunk’s constant and unwavering tutoring. The latter was the sort of class that hit Lance just right. Modern Tactics was taught in a lovingly soft way that only an old academic could manage for a class about war. Professor Welkerson described the course as ‘an exploration of modern era tactics and the future of warfare in the growing frontier of space’. Lance had found he had a knack for always knowing what was coming next in that class, to the thrill of his suede elbow patched, white haired, bowtie wearing professor. He’d had a 108% by the end of the semester. It had felt less like learning, how he’d always known learning, careful memorization and repetition, and more like remembering.

        That was how he felt about the lessons he was getting now. He was in space and light years from anything he knew, and yet every answer felt like it was just a stretch of his memory back. Things were still new and alien, literally, but they made sense to him. The tactics, the screens and controls, the tech and weaponry. His brain needed a push in the right direction and then it all just slotted into place neatly, like he’d always had a spot waiting for them.

        It likely helped that, despite the general stoicism of the Blade of Marmora, his teacher spoke with a surprising level of passion. It wasn’t the loud sort that Lance knew how to have, but it filled the room with a quiet, constant pressing fervor that grabbed Lance’s attention. It made him want to understand more because. It reminded him, despite his long hours alone in the silence of his cold, blue and gray room, he was doing something important.

        Still, every day, his eyes lingered on the training rooms as he headed to his classroom. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Lion Tail, that all this was important things to learn. It wasn’t even that he didn’t enjoy his time in the classroom, despite his initial trepidations. It was that learning it all only made him want more. He wanted to apply the knowledge that fit so neatly into his brain. He wanted to prove that it had been incorporated into him. He wanted to hit something with the ferocity and grace of the other trainees. The last thought might have just been him wanting to look cool, though.

        It was with a lingering glance outside his classroom, that he was barred from entering. He ran directly into the brick wall that was his Lion Tailed teacher and stumbled back. He was too startled to get an apology out before the alien spoke.

         “We will add basic physical training to your schedule starting today.”

         “Really?” Lance was beaming before he thought to check himself. He decided there was no point in _not_ smiling and so he left it there. He glanced back over his shoulder at the fighting forms behind him.

         “You are strangely eager for a fight for one so small,” Lion Tail noted and Lance thought, just maybe, there was a hint of amusement there. It was always hard to tell with these guys. Serious was their first, middle, and last name.

         “Something you’ll have to learn about Humans, Teach,” he said, grin somehow getting more ridiculous still. “We don’t care about the odds, we’re in it for the thrill!” He punctuated this with a ‘whoop’, part emphasis, part excited challenge to the floor of fighters.

         “Then you have found a fitting new home among us,” Lion Tail said in that pressing sort of way. The way that expressed something more, and Lance felt it slotting into his brain, even if he didn’t quite know what the new information was yet. He knew he was ready to be part of something, though, part of _this._

 

~*~*~

 

        Keith was strangely nervous. The fluttering feeling in his stomach was non-sense, but he was still bothered that he couldn’t find the same chips he’d seen Pidge eating when he’d stopped at the 1st Street Convenience Store. There was only one street in the little town that Keith got his supplies from, so he never was sure he agreed with the use of ‘First’ for a street when there wasn’t a second. There wasn’t even a corner, unless you counted the half-finished sidewalk after the last building at the far end of town. He shouldn’t have been surprised when they didn’t have the puffy space themed chips. He was still disappointed. He’d gotten off brand Doritos instead. They proudly proclaimed: “A _Flavor Punch in Each Triangle_!!” in an excited font, so that was something.

        Keith had also dug out his old cot, which he hadn’t used since he’d gotten the futon and lugged it back from a yard sale. He’d also obtained all his cinder blocks from that same yard sale. Along with the armful of spare wooden boards, he’d gotten half his furnishings for his little home that day. He would still been short on pillows and blankets, but he figured a sleeping bag would work good enough for both. He could just as easily use a few folded up shirts and his jacket, so he felt that matter was well enough settled.

        Adding a case of energy drinks and a lot of beef jerky, he thought he should feel confident he was ready for people to spend the night. Yet still, as the hours and then minutes ticked by and he waited for the two Garrison Students to show up, he was getting nervous. He wondered if he should have gotten more food, more drinks, taken his blanket into the laundry mat in town to wash it of his sweat and month old soup stains on the corner. He wondered if he shouldn’t have done anything and the case of energy drinks reeked of ‘trying too hard’. He wondered why people didn’t come with hand written instructions for appropriate interactions.

        If it hadn’t been so important, he might have strongly considered just calling the whole thing off.

        It was while he was fretting over nothing, that his co-conspirators arrived. Kicking open the door after a single knock, Pidge pushed into Keith’s house more backpack than human. A massive pile stacked over their head, topped with a sleeping bag which was much puffier than the one he had to offer.

         “Sorry we’re late. Hunk drives like my great great grandmother,” Pidge announced.

         “Yeah, and on that subject, you know you _do_ have to tell me at some point how you impersonated my great aunt,” Hunk’s voice came from behind the mountain of Pidge’s supplies. He came bearing a stack of cardboard boxes.

        Pizza. Right. Normal people didn’t sustain themselves on energy drinks, jerky, and flavor punched triangles alone. Thank goodness that Hunk thought ahead and provided legitimate sustenance. He caught Keith’s relieved gaze on the pizza. He stood himself up, squaring his shoulders.

         “It’s not as good as if _I_ made it,” he started, pridefully, “But it’s not like the dorms have a kitchen, so you’ll have to deal with 5 dollar fast and easies,” Hunk explained.

         “Hot-N-Ready,” Keith mindlessly corrected, taking the pizzas to find a cleared off space for them. He wondered if it would be weird to offer paper bowls for their pizza. He didn’t have any plates.

         “Little Sleazers,” Pidge snickered.

         “Pizza Slut,” Hunk replied, then his eyes widened, “No no no, wait, Domihos,” he corrected.

         “Papa Johns,” Pidge countered. Hunk scowled.

         “You didn’t even change that one,” he argued.

         “Do I need to?” There was a long pause and Hunk shrugged, apparently deciding Pidge was right.

        Keith blinked. He had clearly missed something, and was about to start feeling that retreating confusion, when Pidge turned on him.

         “Okay! Let’s crack that baby open and see what my little spiders found for me,” they said with an undo fondness for a computer program.

        Keith felt a small sense of vindicated when the output looked as much like jibberish to Pidge as it had to him. Pidge bemoaned not being there to help the little program along. Keith and Pidge spent the next few hours breaking open panels

        Hunk was decidedly uninterested in the computer other than asking repeatedly what diagnostics or mechanical diagrams it might have stored away for him. Otherwise, he was happy to start taking the pod apart the old fashion way to find out himself. They’d decided quickly that it was scrap, unless they did a full rebuild. The landing had not been kind. So, Hunk was given free range to pull apart and reassemble as he liked. They had nothing to lose and everything to learn.

        Keith flitted back and forth between the two, assisting where he could, adding what knowledge he had. While he didn’t have the expertise either of them did, he at least had a few lucky guesses. Pulling aside a hidden looking panel, Keith would have to stumble aside to give Hunk room to coo and explore the newly exposed mechanics. He could blame a good eye for details for that. His moments with Pidge he had less of an excuse for. He just felt like the interface made sense to him for brief moments. Like something looked just familiar enough that he’d reach out before Pidge could stop him, and the system would react just how he _felt_ it should. Pidge and Hunk were alike, in that they didn’t stop to ask how Keith knew where or what something was, because they were too busy giddily rushing into the new discovery. That was probably for the best, as far as Keith was concerned, seeing as how he had no idea how to explain any of it.

        So, with pizza and energy drinks they worked into the night, lit by the headlights of Keith’s skimmer. Hunk would pass out for a few hours and then get back up to do more work periodically. Pidge’s consciousness was harder to judge, with the glare of glasses blocking out if they’d drifted off, but every few minutes a hand delved into the knock-off Doritos bag and pulled out a handful. Keith got a shot of satisfaction watching the bag dwindling until Pidge picked it up to drink the last crumbs.

 

        The next day was much the same, except in the early morning they went out with one part of Pidge’s overstuffed backpack, which contained a mobile tracker for unusual frequencies. Hunk and Pidge had apparently not been totally idle while at the dorms. They had to see if anything else was out there, but nothing gave out readings like the Lion had. Keith was certain there had to be a reason for the other sites, though, so they kept searching.

 

        Their weekends passed like that. Weekdays too if they were deep into things come Sunday. Every minute was a minute closer to discovery. A minute closer to understanding. A minute closer to space. It all felt so very right. Which was probably why Keith started to feel nervous again.

        They’d finally finished pulling the pod apart and putting her back together. Keith had been hot during the day, the sun scorching their backs as they worked. Now it was dark, though, and the heat didn’t linger, without any moisture to cling to. Evening came on sharp and discarded jackets were searched for. Keith walked back outside with his own and hunks. Pidge, having stayed wrapped up and in the shade, was already prepared for the evening.

        Hunk had just sat himself down in the dust, just out of the light of Keith’s little house, staring out and up at nothing. Keith paused, for a moment just a few feet away. He wondered if he was supposed to intrude on this. It suddenly felt very private…

        He walked over and tossed Hunk’s jacket over his shoulders before letting himself plunk down next to him, a little puff of chalky dirt popping up around him, then settling again. Hunk tugged the jacket o without a word. Keith didn’t know how to break the silence, didn’t know if he wanted to. So, they were quiet for a long time before he finally found words worth breaking it for.

         “I knew I was supposed to be out here,” he said. Hunk looked over, he could tell in his periphery, see the movement even in the dark, but he didn’t turn to look at him. He felt like he could confess in this darkness, if he kept his eyes on the stars and nothing else. He felt like he could say anything. “I left school because I had to be _here_ ,” he said, emphasizing the word. He felt his heart pick up pace a little as he did. “I was out here waiting for something. Waiting and waiting. Then suddenly, the lion’s gone, I missed the aliens, and we found an empty escape pod.” He felt like his voice would catch, so he stopped it. He collected himself. The night was creeping in around him. “I feel like things keep slipping through my fingers. I keep missing things by an instant. Always just… this far away,” He held his hand up, fingers almost touching and scowled at the distance between them. He wasn’t sure what he was confessing anymore.

         “You really wanna get into space, huh?” Hunk asked. Keith nodded even if Hunk couldn’t see. “I don’t,” he replied.

         “What? Then why are you at the Garrison?” he asked, staring at him hard. Every Galaxy Garrison kid was there to get into space. He didn’t believe Hunk was the single exception.

         “I’m there for the rocket science,” he explained, as if that were a perfectly normal thing for a teenager to say. Keith was about to shrug it off, when he went on, the night seeping in to him as well. “But I’m going up there with you guys,” he announced, like it was inevitable that they’d get there. Keith liked that sureness.

         “You don’t have to,” Keith replied.

         “Yes. I do.” Hunk was surprisingly serious. Keith hadn’t heard this sort of serious from him. He had to readjust his understanding of Hunk.

         “Why?” Keith asked. Hunk fell back on his hands, letting his head lull back and stared up at the stars. He shrugged. Then Keith asked the real question. “Why are you doing this for Lance?” He wasn’t that he hated the guy, but he didn’t strike Keith as the ‘drop your entire life and launch yourself into space’ sort of friend.

         “Because he’s up there and I have to find him,” Hunk replied easily. “Lance is my best friend. We’ve only known each other since we both started at the Garrison, I know, but I probably would have launched myself into space for him like… the third day we knew each other.” Hunk’s laugh was quiet and hung warmly in the space around them. “He’s like a brother. I felt like he was there for me. Even if he drags he around doing stupid things in the middle of the night, or gets me into trouble, he hasn’t done anything that’s made me doubt he’d be there for me, not since that third day.”

        The explanation left Keith feeling a little warm and fuzzy. Just the idea of someone caring that much, of that bond of brotherhood without blood... and then he missed Shiro. It wasn’t the same sort of friendship that Lance and Hunk had, but it had the same bones, the same base.

         “There’s a lot of reasons I need to be in space,” Keith said, “But… Shiro disappeared on the Kerberos mission,” he said.

         “Takashi Shirogane?” Hunk asked for clarification.

         “Yeah… he’s kinda like Lance is to you?” he paused, it felt silly to say out loud. “Like a brother to me. Not the getting me in trouble in the middle of the night part,” he explained. He paused. “Well, I mean… no I guess a few times,” he corrected. Hunk laughed and, after a moment, Keith did too. He could see why Hunk might be the sort of friend you make into family, why Lance would keep him close.

        They’d quieted after a few long moments, staring up at the sky where they’d both lost something. Hunk spoke again after a moment, but it was soft.

         “I just Hope he's okay..." he muttered.

         “I’m sure he is,” Keith said, because it was the only thing to say.

 

~*~*~

 

        Lance was not okay.

        There was something almost masochistic about the way they did it. They broke him and then they healed him. Then they broke him again. He wasn’t sure why he ever wanted to be trained in hand to hand combat. He also wasn’t sure if he loved or hated the healing pods. He took a nap and his wounds were gone, with some crazy techno space magic that could mend ribs and bruises and sprains and cuts. It also meant that Lance could be trained hard and mercilessly without ever breaking the promise to Ulaz. He was less thrilled about that part.

        There was no pretense to this. The set of three masked Blade members who had taken him on as a trainee did not bother to pretend it wasn’t all that bad. He appreciated, at the very least, that they told him “this will hurt a lot”. It was because they didn't care about the individual; they didn't care about Lance. They cared about the Galaxy. That was okay with Lance because that was why he was here too. At least, that's why he thought he was here. It was sometimes easy to forget after being suplexed and hearing something crunch with a nauseating clarity.

        The only saving grace, the one single comfort he could cling to, was that he had finally, _finally_ gotten McShutupington to find him lipbalm. The healing pod healed, but it didn’t moisturize. Next on his list was a good face mask. McShutupinton seemed receptive to the request.

        He had hope now.

        There might just be skin care products in space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My problem with writing this AU is I want to put SO MUCH in, that sometimes I feel like I'll get lost in it if I don't watch out. Lol.  
> I hope you guys are still enjoying it, though! (and I hope the back and forth isn't too off putting this chapter. It'll be more chill next chapter, promise)
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Lance finally gets back into Blue and she knows _exactly_ where she is taking him, the same place she's been trying to take him since the day they met.


	8. New Meetings and Old Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They finally let Blue do her thing!_  
>  And we check in on some rebels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a little to get to writing after my little hiatus there, but I'm back :D
> 
> Sorry if the editing is rough, I just wanted to get this posted to get _something_ out and get myself moving again!

        Waiting was the worst part of the job, but Lance had gotten better at it. His jittery energy stilled and he let the large blue bubble pop over his lips. He gave it a chew or two after pulling it back into his mouth. He listened. The rhythm of conversation in his earpiece had shifted. It was nearly time. He pulled it from his mouth and stuck the gummy substance behind his ear for safe keeping.

        The bubbles had become something of a party trick for the human among sharp tongued aliens, or maybe it was the teeth that made it so hard for them. Either way it had become his great human talent: blowing bubbles.

        Lance shifted on his stomach as enemy positions were whispered into his ear. He let his eyes slide closed. He knew he couldn’t see the target, not yet. His hands found his rifle comfortably settling into place. He felt as natural at this as the others looked with their Blades. He still hadn’t ‘earned’ his own, but he’d earned enough trust to allow him onto missions. He figured that was a big step for them.

        Lance swallowed away the slightly acrid taste the gum left in the back of his throat. It was supposed to be a sleep aid, but Lance felt the electric buzz of something like a caffeine high. He’d first tried the stuff at the recommendation of his squadmate, to help shift his sleep schedule for a mission. The bright blue gummy substance was supposed to put him to sleep and help him reset his internal clock quickly. He should have known better that to self-medicate on the advice of a random alien. Their nutrition needs had been similar enough, he figured everything else would be to. Lance had barely blinked before it was time for their mission to start. Luckily, he didn’t blink during the mission either, keeping him alive. The crash afterwards had been brutal.

        Apologies aren’t common place in The Blade of Marmora, but the young Blade member had come to him for forgiveness. This was how Lance started his possible addiction to alien 5 hour energy gum. He figured it couldn’t be worse for him than the year before when he’d been vying for a spot in the Pilot Program. He’d had two energy drinks and a cup of coffee every morning to get himself up early enough for hours of extra training.

        Lance opened his eyes. The target was in range. The rifle was snugged up against his shoulder and he looked down the scope. His eyes moved without thought, matching the coded tracking of his spotter. There it was.

Breathe.

        The whispers were fervent, but he waited. One shot. That’s all he had. He wanted the gum back in his mouth, something to keep himself occupied, but he needed to stay focused. He waited for it. This waiting was harder than the long arduous sort leading up to this moment. He might be camped out on his stomach, feeling his limbs going numb and trying to stretch without breaking his cover, but the last few moments were worse. Seconds stretched into years. His first mission he’d aged a decade waiting.

        But there it was. After a second or a year of waiting, Lance’s target walked right into position. It was a perfect shot, one he could not miss. That was not to say it was a shot most could make, and he was proud of that fact. It was one that _he_ could not miss, though.

        He felt the tight recoil against his shoulder as a streak of light darted to its target. The target faltered, then fell. There was no sound. He was too far off to hear the death throes of the gigantic, robotic construct pacing the small door. He didn’t hear any warning bells. He also didn’t hear the light steps of his squad members as they crept towards the now, hopefully, unguarded back entrance.

        Lance ducked down, back fully under cover. He was waiting again, this time for the second eternity held in each shot. He stayed still until the all clear was whispered into his ear piece, confirming his shot had been clean, destroying the transmitter and avoiding any alarms.

         “Moving in,” a calm voice confirmed. Lance let out the loudest sound he’d made since the bubble popped two eternities ago when he let out a breath. He grinned to himself. He knew in a few ticks he’d be back to vigilantly watching for enemy combatants and covering the back entrance for the remainder of the operation. He gave himself a second to stretch all his limbs out like a starfish and let his muscles relax before he pulled himself back together and rolled into position.

 

 

         “So, when do I get to get my own cool glowy blade thingy?” Lance asked, back from the successful sabotage mission and feeling bold. He’d lost his fear of the stoic, giant aliens around him, even Kolivan. That didn’t mean the giant aliens had lost their stoic, though. Kolivan stared at him for a long pensive moment.

         “You are not Galra,” he concluded.

         “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and half of you all are only half anyway,” Lance replied, waving a hand dismissively. He knew it was an over statement, but he was proving points, not quoting statistics.

        Kolivan didn’t bother to correct him, he just kept walking.

         “Oh, come on. I don’t mean I need it _right now_ , but I’d like to know when I might earn it. I _know_ you don’t even let people assist on missions before they’re tested,” he said. He’d learned enough from his squadmates to know there was a test. They wouldn’t tell him what the test was, but he knew it was important.

         “It is not your fight,” he assured. It wasn’t a real argument, it was just an attempt to shut him up. Lance could feel the lack of heart.

         “Oh please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just because I’m not stopping other humans from enslaving my planet doesn’t mean my planet will be any less enslaved. We’re fighting the same war.” Lance knew he should have talked to Ulaz about this instead, but it seemed like Kolivan had the final say in things, and he was getting antsy.

        Kolivan grunted, not arguing. Lance sped up a little to get in front of him. “Let me _do_ something. I appreciate that you’ve finally let me go on missions, but I clearly could be doing more,” he said. He didn’t know what he thought he could be doing, but there must be something.

         “Tomorrow you will let the Blue Lion of Voltron take you where it wants to go.”

         “Come o-,” Lance began to whine, but stopped short. Kolivan passed him as he stared, dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting a yes at all, let alone the easy win he’d just been handed. “Wait.” He quickly leapt to catch up. “What’s the catch?” he asked.

         “We will follow you and protect any other parts of Voltron you find,” Kolivan replied evenly.

         “That’s not much of a catch,” Lance said, suspiciously.

         “As you say, we are fighting the same war,” he replied. Lance stopped again, this time because Kolivan had reached his destination. He punched in his code and entered, not leaving time for Lance to ask any other questions. The door shut, leaving Lance in shock, then a grin burst onto his face.

         “Whooo! Hear that Blue?!” Lance shouted down the halls, though he was far from close enough for Blue’s sensors to pick his words up, no matter how loudly he shouted them. “We’re going out!” he sang.

        He performed a small, perfunctory victory dance before jogging excitedly towards his quarters.

 

 

        Lance hadn’t worn his Earth clothing in weeks. He was pretty sure it’d been weeks at least. He hadn’t been doing a great job keeping track of time. He’d have to just go with his gut and it said it’d been somewhere around 5 weeks since he’d pulled the jacket out of the locker at the foot of his bed.

        It felt right to be in his Earth clothes when he went back to Blue. He’d only been able to catch snippits with her recently. A few moments after training, or he’d bring his breakfast into her before a mission and eat in the pilot’s seat. He was coming to her this time with a bit more freedom, and he felt like the jacket and jeans meant that. They were _him_. They were _home_. That felt right for letting Blue take the wheel and finally do whatever it was that she’d wanted to do all this time, what she’d complained about since she’d been holed up in the cargo bay.

 

        The reaction was instantaneous. The second the doors opened Blue bolted. All Lance could do was grip the controls for dear life until they jolted out of the artificial gravity of the ship and into just Blue’s.

        Lance glanced up just in time to see the bright glowing glyph appear, floating in space. He glanced down and saw the sensors indicating Blade ships struggling to keep up to the Lion even for the short sprint she’d done leaving the cargo bay. Then everything disappeared. Or at least, every indicator blinked out on his screen. There were no other ships, there was no location, there was nothing. He looked up to see _something_ , but it was blurred and stretched and bright.

        The moment passed and they were somewhere again. A planet appeared on his screen and Blue shot towards it with a roar of excitement. He wasn’t sure if the robot made any noise, but when it made him feel her head throw back and her excitement raced through him, it felt like a roar.

        He flicked up coordinates, planetary information, sensors. Only two ships had made it through with him, small quick fighters. One read with Ulaz’s signature. That one chased after him. The other hung back to patrol the planet and transmit location.

        It would be a surprise when it got back to Kolivan and the rest. They were nowhere near the Blade ships anymore. His knowledge of interstellar travel might have been limited, but this was a leap and a half according to his coordinates. Whatever happened when they hit that giant glowing space thing was serious business.

        Ulaz’s face popped onto his screen.

         “Lance, is your Lion still in command?” he inquired. He was busily working something out on his end, not looking at Lance despite the video communique.

         “Yeah, she’s still doing her thing,” Lance replied. Finally, he could coax Blue into telling him their destination, as the planet rushed closer. She had been tight lipped back in the hanger. “It looks like this is our destination.” Lance shot the on-planet coordinates to Ulaz. He nodded.

         “I will forward these to The Blade. Our jump was a far one and only the three of us made it through before the portal closed,” he explained. He finally looked to Lance. “We are signaling for reinforcements. For the time being I will be your only back up if there is trouble. This is the outer reaches of Galra territory, but long-range scouting sensors might still alert units near enough by to cause trouble.” He spoke so calmly that Lance felt at ease, even if Ulaz meant to caution him.

         “Okay, well, we don’t have much say in this. Blue’s taking us in whether we like it or not,” he noted.

 

        Soon they were slowing near the planet surface along a coastline. Blue seemed to relax at the last leg of her journey, letting a white castle come casually into view. The screens flashed when she passed the first two towers, and the tips of all five towers flashed back. A greeting.

        Blue landed in a courtyard like entrance by the central tower and let Lance out. Ulaz joined him and they looked up at the white spires around them. It had the same sensibilities of Blue’s design, to Lance. Though if you asked him he wouldn’t be able to explain why. It just felt like Blue sat very neatly there next to the towers.

         “The Castle of Lion,” Ulaz stated, but Lance knew his tones well enough by now to know this was a question.

         “That sounds like the sorta thing a magic techno space lion would take me to, yeah,” he agreed. Blue wanted him here, so he might as well make his entrance. As they took their first few steps away from Blue, she reared back and roared. There was a sound.

        Lance jumped, twisting around to look at her, and even Ulaz stiffened in shock. The welcoming sound of whirling mechanisms and flashes of blue drew their eyes back towards the main tower’s entrance. Like the tips, the door glowed and opened, revealing a large, dark hall.

        The two of them glanced at each other, before heading forward. Their feet echoed in the cavernous halls. Lance glanced around. It looked big enough for the lion to join them, but the steps, dimly illuminated by the natural lighting drifting in behind them, looked more human sized.

         “We might as well-,” Lance strode towards the stairs. Again, he was startled to a stop when the ceiling started to glow. Then the floor. He remembered the ground falling out from under him in the caves where he’d first found Blue, and tensed, but a soothing automated voice spoke instead.

         “Hold for Identity Scan.”

        The scan ran up Lance and he lifted his arms a bit, as if they were in the way. Ulaz remained still. There was no report on what their identity scan decided, but apparently it wasn’t ‘set phasers to kill’. With proper dramatic flare, blue fiery lighting started spreading up the hall, pairs of torches at a time. Lance had to appreciate the showmanship of it, as they filled in from behind and proceeded up the stairs and down the once dark and foreboding hall.

         “Well, I guess we go this way,” he said, leading the way. Ulaz fell in step two paces behind him. He was silent and unreadable, but that wasn’t new.

        As they walked, the lights were always one set ahead of them. It never lit their path more than one section ahead and set them on a slow pace through the empty corridors and stairwells.

        After much twisting and turning and towers, it led them finally to a large circular room, podium standing in the center. Lance started walking the perimeter, while Ulaz walked to the center console with intention.

         “This is the control room,” he announced, for Lance’s sake. He left a hand absently pressed to the blank control screen. “Remain here, I will secure our location.” With that, Ulaz dutifully disappeared.

        Lance ‘Mmhm’ed after him mindlessly as he paced the room. It felt like it wasn’t supposed to be so… empty. “Hey Ula-,” he started to call, but cut off, taking a few quick steps back towards the center when two pods suddenly rose from the floor under his feet.

         “What the heck?” Lance muttered as he neared one. Under a frosted surface, humanoid figures loomed in the pods. Before he could tap on it, as would be the obvious course of action, the fogged over glass started to sparkle away. Like Blue, the whole ship felt stuck between fantasy and technology, but this tipped it over into straight up magic. What was even more magical, though, was the gorgeous creature the pod revealed.

        Tall and dark skinned, with rolling clouds of perfectly white hair down past her back. The alien was dressed like royalty and her look screamed Space Princess, right to the bright blue check marks under her eyes. Lance barely had time to admire her before her eyes flashed open, brilliantly blue and bright.

         “Father!” she called, stepping forward as if starting out of a bad dream. Just as quickly, her foot gave way under her. Lance had to leap forward to catch her.

        She landed heavily on him, her arms loosely draped around him as she caught her breath from the moment of dizziness. Those unearthly bright eyes looked up to meet his, wide and lost. Lance felt the stupid grin pulling over his face before he could think better of it. He’d just rescued a beautiful space princess from a pod. There was nothing else to do. He put on the Kirk charm.

         “Hello,” he said, as suave as he knew how.

         “Who are you,” she breathed, her face slowly moving from dazed to serious, her voice pulling from breathy to intent. “Where am I?”

         “I’m Lance,” he said, “And you’re right here in my arms.”

         “Your ears,” she said, her voice serious now. Lance had to pause at that. He glanced to the side as if he could see them.

         “Yeah?” he asked.

         “They’re hideous,” her voice had turned to disdain. Lance was officially lost. He’d had the perfect line, and now they were talking about his ears. Sure, hers were pointed into cute little tips, like some sort of high elf princess, but that was no reason to judge. “What’s wrong with them?” she went on.

         “Nothing’s wrong with them!” Lance shouted, indignant. “They heard exactly what you said about them!” Before he could defend the honor of his ears further a hand was on one. The next few moments were a blur. There was a shot of pain and he was bent around to avoid his offending ear being ripped right off. He found himself on his knees, one arm twisted behind his back and a tight grip still on his poor ear, holding him in place.

         “Who are you! What are you doing here? Where is King Alfor?” she shouted at him.

         “Blue brought us here!” he shouted back, not knowing what else _to_ say. He tried to turn his head enough to look for Ulaz, but found the purple alien was still gone. Shit.

         “How do _you_ have the Blue Lion? What happened to its paladin?” She asked, dropping her hold on him. Apparently, she’d assessed him as not a threat and that was all right with Lance. He jumped up to his feet and spun around. At the same time, his hand shot to his ear protectively.

        Allura was glancing around the room, “What are you doing here, unless… how long has it been?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, she was pushing towards the center console. Placing her hands on it the panel burst to life, as did the rest of the ship. Holograms and information shot up into the air around them.

         “I’ve got to find out where we are and how long we’ve been asleep,” she said to herself. Lance was heading over to see what she was looking at, but before he got all the way there, the other pod sparkled it’s living contents free.

         “Ahh! Enemy combatants! Huahh!” a man shouted as he leapt from the pod. Bright orange hair, mustache included, flew at Lance, foot first. Well, _at_ was a strong word. In the general direction was more accurate. Lance stepped aside out of a sense of obligation not to completely ignore the attack.

         “Woah, buddy, no one’s attacking anyone,” Lance assured, or more suggested as the man took up a stance like they were about to engage in a rousing bought of fisticuffs.

         “Well good because if we were-,” he started, his tone ready and brag.

         “This can’t be right.” The serious tone coming from the first alien caught both of their attentions. “So many years…” she breathed. The second alien squawked and rushed over. He pushed past Lance to see the screens himself.

         “10,158,” Ulaz’s voice came calmly from the doorway. “Princess Allura, I presume? I am Ulaz, of the Blade of Marmora.” He spoke so calmly, as if he expected to find these two here, even though Lance knew for a fact he hadn’t. He bowed his head

        The introduction fell on deaf ears as the beautiful alien’s ethereal face contorted into something fearsome and, if Lance was being honest with himself, terrifying. There was only an instant before she was rushing Ulaz, nothing short of a war cry taring from her. Ulaz didn’t even step aside, he simply let her shove him back until he hit the wall behind him. Lance could have sworn she grew between the time she’d woken up and the now, shoving Ulaz up against the wall. She looked nearly as tall as he was, and the purple alien was not short by any stretch of the imagination.

         “What did you do?” she growled at him. Ulaz was calm, despite the attack. Lance finally had the sense to try to help, but the second alien seemed to have come to his senses at the same time and leapt in his way.

         “We brought the Blue Lion here,” Ulaz explained, ignoring the forearm pressed to his throat.

         “Yeah! I flew the Blue Lion here!” Lance corroborated, as he tried to dodge past the man playing interference.

        Allura’s eyes darted away from Ulaz and back towards Lance. “ _YOU_ flew the lion here?” she snapped at him, her voice barely coming out of a growl enough to sound shocked instead of angry.

         “Yes! Me and my perfect ears did!” Lance assured. “Blue and I have a bond and—waaaaait a second,” Lance said, dragging out his words as the whole previous conversation finally processed, “Isn’t Allura a 10,000 year old dead princess?” he asked, fuzzily remembering his history lessons.

         “Apparently not very dead,” Ulaz commented, and despite his dry tone Lance could hear the tinge of humor. Whether the Princess could or not was up for debate, but either way it earned him a hard press across his throat.

         “Not dead at all, Galra scum,” she hissed.

         “Wooooah woah woahwoah!” Lance said, throwing his hands up. “We come in peace!” he cried, throwing his hands up and waving them to show how weapon free they were. He hoped they ignored the laser rifle strapped to his back.

         “Don’t lie to me,” Allura snapped, fiercely. Lance’s hand shot to his chest in offense.

         “Excuse me, Princess,” he snapped back, “But we came here because The Blue Lion wanted to, so if you don’t want us here, we’ll happily take her and go.”

         “You _actually_ flew the Blue Lion here?” she asked, her eyes leaving Ulaz for a second to stare incredulously.

         “Uh, yeah. Blue Paladin,” he paused and shot a look to Ulaz, “Paladin?” he confirmed. He got only the slightest of nods, but he put on a grin and took up his best hero stance all the same. “Paladin of Voltron,” he announced. The second alien seemed to falter in his body guarding efforts.

         “Allura…” he said. Lance could have sworn the guy was Australian or something if he didn’t have pointy ears and just came out of a 10,000 year old magical space nap. The space princess paused in thought.

         “Coran,” she addressed the orange haired alien in an authoritative voice. “Bring me some cuffs,” she demanded, looking back to Ulaz and frowning. She still didn’t seem to trust him, despite his not having fought back at all, or maybe _because_ he hadn’t fought back at all.

         “Is that really necessary?” Lance asked, exasperated.

         “Two pairs,” Allura amended.

         “What?” Lance whined, but Coran was already slapping a pair of laser handcuffs onto his wrists. “Come on!” Lance cried, throwing his cuffed hands up.

         “Until I figure out how you got in here, you two are staying cuffed,” Allura said.

         “Fine! We’ll go ask Blue! She’ll vouch for me,” Lance said, starting to march his handcuffed self back down the hall.

 

         “Stand down, do not advance until further notice,” Ulaz was muttering in code as Lance passed. Not too long ago the words would have seemed like gibberish to him. Now he could listen to it like a third language.

         “What was that?” Allura snapped, as she moved Ulaz along.

         “He was muttering my favorite song. Shall I sing it for you, gorgeous?” Lance asked, covering for Ulaz with a smarmy grin and, if he did say so himself, a beautiful set of pipes.

        He started singing a love song that had been stuck in his head a few weeks ago. He hadn’t remembered all the words, but it didn’t matter in space. He’d filled in his own and annoyed his squadmates by singing it quietly into their ears through their training exercises. Now he belted it and, despite Allura’s stalwart seriousness, Coran was soon singing the refrain with him.

 

        When the Blue Lion was in fact there, Allura had to take a few long moments. She even stepped forward, putting her back to Ulaz for a moment to walk out and look up at Blue. She’d be so sure that she was marching the two to their condemnation that she hadn’t prepared herself for the alternative.

         “Oh… it’s really here,” she said quietly.

         “Uh, yeah!” Lance said. Blue’s shields were up. She was still defensive after her time in captivity. That was understandable. She was a free range robo-lion from now on, though. Lance didn’t care what The Blade said, he’d made an executive decision. She looked better in the wild.

         “Hey Blue!” he called up to greet the lion. The giant head turned down towards them. He knew her sensors could pick them up regardless of which way her head was, but it was sweet of her to look at him when he was talking to her.

         “Well, good, I’m glad we’ve at least started to-,” Allura was stepping forward towards the lion, a hand casually out to dispel the barrier. Her fingers ran right into the blue haze and she looked to the shield in front of her instead of the Lion itself for the first time.

         “ _Excuse me_ ,” she said, her royalty showing in the shocked annoyance painted across her face. “I am Princess Allura of Altea,” she informed. Nothing happened. Lance smirked.

         “It’s been 10,000 years, babe,” Lance said, walking past her and not even looking at the shield. “Times have changed,” he informed. He was jarred to a sudden stop. He stumbled a step back from the still raised shields. “Blue!” he snapped accusingly up at her. There was a pause and a snort from the Princess, but then the blue haze dissipated belatedly.

         “Well,” Allura’s voice sounded crisp. Lance’s head turned to her, expecting a judgmental expression, but she was smiling faintly. “Looks like The Blue Lion has chosen you,” she said, her eyes moving from him to the Lion, who was lowering her head to Lance. Lance grinned at the Lion and then back at Allura. She was reaching over and undoing his cuffs.

         “Yeaaaah, we’re pretty much best buddies. You want a ride?” he asked. Her face went serious and she looked back to Ulaz, who waited patiently. Her expression darkened.

         “Coran, watch him. If he tries anything, I want him locked up,” she said, giving the other Altean a serious look. Coran saluted dutifully and moved into a ready stance. Ulaz didn’t move. He likely wouldn’t until they were back.

 

        Lance led Allura into the ship, prouder still to have his bond with the robot when the princess stepped into her with reverence. Her hands trailed the toothy entrance like it was sacred. He took them up to the cockpit and turned around to lean his elbows on the back of the chair. He gave her his best smile.

         “So, where would you like me to take you, Princess?” he asked.

         “I would rather know why the Blue Paladin would have a Galra as a travelling companion,” she said, not even looking at his dazzling smile.

         “Uh, because they’re helping me defeat the Evil Galra Empire,” he replied, exaggerating his importance, but, hey, it wasn’t just for his ego. It seemed like the best way to convince her to help them out.

         “Empire?” she echoed back, pausing her walk around the pilot’s chair. Her fingers paying homage to the smooth interior of the ship stopped. Lance leaned over the chair and pulled up the map to show the empire’s reach. “The Purple is the Galra Empire. There are the free systems clustered mostly over here in blue,” he explained, waving at the hologram.

        Allura rounded the pilot’s seat to inspect the map and then sat down heavily in it. Lance couldn’t help but feel like she looked very _right_ in that seat. Her father had made the Lion’s though, if Lance remember his ‘History of Voltron’ lessons. Lance supposed it would make sense his daughter fit perfectly in one.

        Allura’s eyes trailed up from the map to him. She suddenly looked very tired. The thousands of years sleeping could do nothing to keep this news from seeping into her bones and dragging her down into weariness.

        "What happened?" she asked directly. Lance shifted around in the small space, flicking off the map and sitting himself on the control panel. Luckily, Blue knew the difference between his butt and actual commands.

        "Zarkon won,” he said simply. “And he's been trolling around the universe ever since. Conquering I guess.”

        "Zarkon's still alive?!" Allura blurted, hands going to the armrests and gripping them tightly, angrily.

        "Yeah? Do… you guys not just live that long?" he asked. He hadn’t ever asked how old any of the Blade were.

        "What? No!" she cried, something in her voice edging on amused, despite the seriousness of the topic.

        "Oh... Well shit, why didn't anyone tell me that?" Lance asked, furrowing his brow.

        "Do you.... Did you think all galra lived thousands of years?" She asked. He had. He’d just assumed, since no one told him anything about 10,000 years being a super long time for Zarkon to live. The Blade tended to only give the most essential information, of course. Lance shouldn’t have been surprised things like this slipped through the educational cracks.

        "I don't know! I didn't even know there was intelligent life on other planets until pretty darn recently. So, cut me some slack,” Lance shot back, throwing his hands up and shrugging defensively at the same time.

        "Where are you from?" Allura cut in. He meant to just answer, but the name stuck in his throat. He hadn't said the word in so long it didn't feel right.

        "A little planet that's next on Zarkon's list of conquests if we don't do something" he offered instead.

        "Why are you working with Galra then?" She asked, tone darkening.

         “They’re not part of the “Galra Empire”,” he explained, air quotes and all. When she still looked skeptical he went on, “They’re called the Blade of Marmora, and I think they’ve been around about as long as Zarkon has been… though I guess it makes a little more sense knowing that all these guys weren’t around 10,000 years ago now that I think about it,” he said, falling into a half mutter and frowning. He wasn’t sure if Ulaz being a normal humanish age was comforting or unnerving.

         “But if they’ve been around all this time, what have they been doing?” she asked.

         “Slowing Zarkon down and trying to find ways to stop him,” Lance replied, feeling defensive. He had his own issues with how the Blade did things, but Allura didn’t even know them. She didn’t have the right to any level of smack talk yet. They were trying to do the right thing.

         “And what did they think would happen when they came here?” she asked, accusation bleeding into her words.

         “They didn’t even know where _here_ was,” Lance replied, “None of us did,” he assured. “This- _you_ were a surprise for all of us.”

         “I'm not working with them to find the other Lions,” she informed, bluntly, her arms crossing.

         “No one's asking you to. Hell, I just wanted to finally figure out where Blue was trying to take me all this time! She wouldn’t give us any information until we just let her come here on her own,” he explained. At the reminder of the Lion’s seeming sentients, she looked down to the seat she was in, touching the armrests more gently now.

         “We have to stop Zarkon,” she said after a long silence.

         “That’s the spirit!” Lance agreed, pushing up to his feet and grinning down at her. “So, let’s go tell The Blade that-,” he started.

         “No,” Allura said sharply. “The Blade knows nothing. If I help, I am helping a Paladin of Voltron, not… _them_.” Lance was shocked, he hadn’t expected her to hold on to her skepticism so hard.

         “All right,” he said. He was about to offer her a hand to shake on it, then reconsidered. She was a princess, after all, and he was a dashing space warrior. He got down onto a knee and bowed like a knight offering servitude. “Anything to assist you, Princess.”

        Lance could hear her rolling her eyes in her voice, “Get up. I need your cooperation, not your fealty,” she insisted. Lance hopped to his feet, but he saw the amusement in her eyes. The darkness that had come with the ‘ _them_ ’ comment had passed.

         “Fine, you got me. I don’t know how to be a ‘Paladin of Voltron’,” he admitted. “I barely know how to be A Blade. So, show me what I need to know to save the galaxy with you,” he requestd. Allura nodded thoughtfully, and then more solid.

         “Alright, we have a _lot_ of work to do if we want to get you up to Paladin Status,” she said, starting back out of Blue. Lance pretended to be offended, but he was excited. Whatever she had in store for him, he was ready.

 

~*~*~

 

        Matt Holt might not be the person that came to mind first when picturing a member of a militarized resistance movement. That was just the people who didn’t know him. Friends knew that he had been the one who organized the underground trade a Pokemon cards in elementary school after a ‘concerned parent’ had them banned. They knew he was the one who taught his entire second grade class Morse code, and they had only gotten caught when the entire class got a 98% on a test all missing the exact same question. He didn’t often profit from these ventures. He facilitated trades free of charge, and those 98% correct answers were all his. Matt Holt was a rebel for the sake of being a rebel from the very beginning.

        The only really surprising part was that he was lightyears away from Earth. This shouldn’t have caught anyone off guard either, though, given his collection of space galivanting, sci-fi movies. In the end, it felt like a given that, despite all the odds, he was here, at the hub of the Resistance, waiting for his next assignment.

        Matt leaned on the tall desk, a green spindly creature missing half a mantis like arm tapped her chitinous stub on the table sharply in front of him, warding him back.

         “Don’t be stingy, Hedd’l,” Matt said. “I just want to look in the lovely black pools of your eyes,” he said, batting his own. The green front of her face pulled into a beakish tip that curved far enough over the top of her lips that it tapped dismissively under her bottom. Matt had thought this was a secondary sex characteristic of males of her species, but it seemed to be just a cultural grooming habit. He wondered if they could clip the tip or if the grooming process was more involved. He didn’t ask Hedd’l. She was a lovely creature, even as she tapped her lips at him, but she might shoot him for getting that friendly.

         “You’ll ‘e heading to Sahrt. Su’ly trans’ort sa’otage. T’elve cycle ‘ait,” she reported, her voice a raspy sound from her throat missing any noises that required malleable lips. It had been a bit hard to understand at first, but he’d caught on quickly to the sounds that were dropped.

         “Wiiiiith?” Matt prompted, leaning further across the desk despite her previous warning.

         “You,” she replied, simply.

         “Ah! No partner again? What do you think I’m some sort of one man army?” Matt asked with a pitiable expression. He did have some advantages in working alone. He was hard to spot, small and unobtrusive. Humans, it seemed came off as rather friendly looking in comparison to other options. No tusks or claws or pincers, at least.

        She clicked her lips at him and Matt was pretty sure he saw a smirk tugging at the corners of her stiff lips. His assignment card was slipped back over to him. It would have the details of his assignment on it. He sighed.

         “Isn’t Sahrt the ice planet?” Matt asked, putting his hand over the card, stopping it, as if he were deciding if he would pull it to himself or push it back. As if he had a say in the matter. Her ticking lips were amused for sure this time. That was a yes. Before he could argue, she was tapping her half arm on the desk and dusting him away.

         “Nex’,” she called out.

        Matt flicked the card up into his palm and moved out of the way. It wasn’t the worst assignment he’d gotten. He’d soon found he was in an interesting middle place as a human. He was not best adapted to any of the extreme environments he’d found on the planets and bases he’d been sent to. There was an alien from every environmental niche he could have imagined, and a few he hadn’t even thought to. That said, he was adaptable. At least that was the rumor that spread around getting him sent out to everywhere from Hoth to Mustafa.

        Matt had just pocketed the card and stepped out into the fresh artificial air of the hallowed out asteroid when he noticed the commotion. Ships were always coming and going from the hub, and not all of them Rebels. More often it was less savory types, though sometimes they were one and the same.

        The whole establishment was cloaked, and only backdoors to enter by. There were scanners looking for trackers, and ships ready to enforce the secrecy of the Hub. That made it a great place for thieves and rebels alike. Occasionally particularly good hauls came in. It was usually worth the time just to see what sort of things garnered a crowd in the alien culture he was now living in. Today, though, hunger outweighed curiosity.

        Matt tucked the card into his pocket and started towards the Rebel food court. He didn’t eat for free, but cheap there. It also wasn’t the most delicious food, but it was better than the prison mush he’d had the first half of his time in space. There were textural differences, which was great, and occasionally things that triggered his gag reflexes, which was less great. It was a give and take, like everything out in space. He thought he had all the main offenders to his palette burned into his scent memory now. His stomach turned sniffing it, and he knew to passed it over now.

 

        Matt pulled his brown, dingy cloak closer around himself, hood further down over his face. He was being followed.

        He’d picked up a sixth sense for this sort of thing. He’d learned to pay attention to those darting forms in his periphery and regularly check his pockets. He didn’t plan to lose his assignment card. It was useless for information without his credentials, but it was good for a discount on a few meals, and that was good enough to steal for some. He’d had to pick up the skill pretty quickly when he found the Resistance Base had set up in a den of space pirates and cut throats.

        He knew the stalker had been following him since the Docking Bay. He was trailing out of the heavily populated areas, which made him safer from a pick pocket and more in danger of an attack. He didn’t look fully behind himself to confirm his suspicions. He didn’t want them to know he knew. The figure had some height on him, that much he could tell. A fight wouldn’t be ideal, but if it had to happen, it would be on his terms.

        Matt sidestepped sharply into an alley. He’d have a few moments before they would follow, to keep his suspicions at bay. Matt slid around into the space between two hulls that had been patched together to make the foundation of the building to his left. It was a nearly invisible break from the opening of the alley.

        A long shadow of a figure ran down the side street, pausing, hesitating. Then pressed forward, cautiously. A faint glow of purple lit the dark of the alley and Matt’s blood ran cold. There was a Galra agent in the Hub. His mind raced. They could be here tracking a smuggler, not the Resistance Fighters. He was following Matt, but it wasn’t as if Matt didn’t do any smuggling alongside his missions. He was careful to delete all records of the items he stole, though, and any record of his presence in any Galra base. He was nothing if not thorough. He might still be listed as an escaped prisoner, of course.

        Matt’s fingers found the encrypted messenger in his pocket and released a tentative warning out to be triggered if he didn’t call it off in 200 ticks. He let out a silent, calm breath. The scuff of feet neared, the purple light bobbing steadily closer.

        Three, two… one.

        Matt burst around the corner, his staff flying towards his stalker’s head. A flash of purple shot up and a glowing hand wrapped around the metal. Matt didn’t have time to be surprised. He’d been in enough scuffles by now to know he had to keep moving while he strategized. The dim lighting only revealed the dark shadow of his attacker’s hooded face.

        Matt twisted the staff to wrench it free of the glowing grip. This wasn’t so much to get the weapon free as to twist his attacker off balance.  Unfortunately, they had the good sense to let go instantly. Matt didn’t wait to readjust his tactic. He swept his staff low, this time successfully causing his attacker to stumble back.

        A protesting sound came from the cloaked figure, but Matt didn’t take notice of the cut off complaints. In the precious moments he had, he rushed to the side of the narrow alley and used a crate to give him a little added height as he leapt back at his attacker. He swung his staff at the arm that had glowed earlier. His staff was already warm from the contact with it once, he didn’t want to know what it would do to his flesh. He braced himself to collide with the larger creature. He pinned the glowing arm to the wall with his staff, a hand to either side. His knee came up towards their gut. A non-glowing hand shot down to catch the knee, though he still got a solid ‘oof’.

        Matt left just one hand on his staff, hoping it would hold the arm. His hand darted into his cloak for a blaster. He pressed it to his stalkers chest before they had time to recover.

         “Wait,” a voice gruffly requested. The purple light had disappeared, but Matt’s head shot up so quickly that his hood fell back the rest of the way. He knew the voice.

         “Shiro?” He didn’t really believe his senses. Everything was too dark.

         “Matt?” the voice replied, equally surprised sounding.

        Matt stepped back, dropping his staff and holstering the blaster so he could grab the front of the cloak and turn him around. The lights from the main street flooded in under the cloak’s hood. Matt’s fingers clutched tighter and he shook the man in front of him, because he didn’t know what else to do. His heart was pounding, confused and elated.

         “Shiro!” he said, more certain this time. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked and felt himself actually laugh as the adrenaline faded slowly. He’d just nearly shot Takashi fucking Shirogane, Champion of the Galra gladiatorial fights, Captain of the Kerberos mission, amazing, _living_ human being.  Then he came to his senses and let go of Shiro’s cloak. He tagged on a hasty “sir.”

        This time it was Shiro’s turn to laugh. “It’s good to see you, Matt. It’s good to see you alive,” he said bluntly, his hand lifting, the one that had been purple moments ago. It hesitated when Matt’s eyes shot to it. The human hand came up instead and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a solid squeeze.

         “Good to see _me_ alive? Good to see _you_ alive!” Matt corrected. He stomped on the edge of his staff, snapping it up onto his hand and grinned at Shiro. “How’d you find me?” he asked.

         “I didn’t mean to. You were pointed out to me at the docks as someone who could lead me back to the Resistance Base. I was trying to pull you aside and ask, but, well…” Shiro said, gesturing towards the staff. Matt just grinned cheekily.

         “Yeah, and then I kicked your ass,” he said. Shiro raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips. “I did!” he insisted.

         “I didn’t say you didn’t,” Shiro replied, putting his hands up. Shiro certainly hadn’t been trying to hurt him in the brief encounter, but Matt didn’t feel like bringing that up. The once purple hand was there between them.

         “Nice hand,” Matt commented, figuring they might as well get that one out of the way. Shiro’s eyes glanced down at the mechanical arm and an expression passed over his face that made Matt wish he hadn’t.

         “Yeah, well, a parting gift,” he said, flexing the fingers. He looked back to Matt, “So, you’re a Rebel Fighter?”

         “What? Did you think I’d just sit around in a cell all day when there’s an evil space empire to overthrow?” Matt asked. They’d started to walk, Matt not needing to think it over. Shiro was the sort of asset you didn’t pass up on. Shiro was the sort of person you could trust your life and the whole goddamn universe to. The Resistance needed him. Matt probably did too. He loved all the crazy alien biology going on, it was fascinating, but having someone who knew what Star Wars was would be a huge asset to his sanity.

         “I suppose I should have known better,” Shiro said with a light chuckle.

         “Yeah of cour-oh shit!” Matt said, flicking out the little device from his pocket. He spun it as the last few ticks of his countdown counted down. He breathed. Shiro gave him a curious look but he waved it off. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

        Shiro nodded, but kept a questioning eyebrow lifted. Instead of explaining, Matt turned to him and looked him over.

         “I have a serious question,” Matt said, putting on a light frown. Shiro matched his expression to match. “And be honest with me… How did you get more buff?” he asked. Shiro looked startled at the comment.

         “You’re one to talk,” he said instead of answering. “When’d you learn to fight like that? I feel like maybe I didn’t need to throw you out of the Gladiatorial Ring if you could do _that_.” He was teasing, making light of his sacrifice at their parting. Matt saw the scars and he knew the hand wasn’t a choose Shiro had made for himself.  He’d seen the augmentation on fighters. He knew how these things went.

         “I’d have died back then,” he assured. Then he laughed to make sure Shiro didn’t get too serious about that topic. Shiro smiled back at him and Matt felt… relieved. He hadn’t known the guilt weighed so heavily on his shoulders until it was lifted. Shiro was here and alive and free. The universe was right again, or right enough, and about to be righter.

        He guided Shiro around a few more twists and turns. In a few moments, they were at a nondescript warehouse like door. He pushed aside a panel to punch in a code, waited a moment and then pushed the creaking door, holding in open for Shiro.

        Shiro stepped in, closely followed by Matt.

        “Welcome, to the Rebel Alliance,” he announced, gesturing grandly to the bustling hanger bay trailing into an open command room. Technology and creatures of every sort mingled in a tapestry of chaotic activity. Matt had grown quite fond of it already. He was pretty certain Shiro would be an integral part of everything in no time at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy the update, it's not quite what I planned, but outlines be damned! I needed to check in on my space nerd!!!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~(I might have started to get into Galra biology and might be theorizing about alien drugs now.... I'm having a bit of fun)~~
> 
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> 
>  **Next Chapter** : let's check in on the the nerds back on Earth. And Allura doesn't get along well with some of the other opposition groups...


	9. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hunk is graduating and that's supposed to mean something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to read! Your comments really help me keep focused on finishing this and getting it out there!  
> I love hearing back from you guys about this AU! :D ♥
> 
> This chapters not quite what I had meant for it to be, but story of this fic, right? ( ~~I need an editor or _someone_ to keep me on track, lmao~~ ). I got distracted thinking about Hunk, tho, so, what are you gonna do????

        Hunk was graduating.

        It didn’t feel like the spectacular event it was supposed to, though. It felt surreal at best, and like just background noise if he were to be honest about it. His senior year had all just been static in the back of his head, everything at the Garrison since Lance had disappeared.

        He still went to classes. He got his 3.9 GPA. He even had a letter from a college sitting on his desk. He’d taken almost a week to get around to opening it and to find out it was an acceptance letter. It wasn’t from a safety school. He hadn’t gotten any replies from any of the reasonable colleges his councilor had suggested, though that was largely due to the fact that he hadn’t bothered to fill any other applications out. There was only one school that had felt like it meant anything at all, breaking through the fog laid over his normal life to shout that that it was too important to ignore. It was a stretch goal, a dream mechanical engineering program he shouldn’t have gotten into because of that missing 0.1 on his GPA and lack of 9001 extracurriculars. The rest laid as abandoned tabs and half written essays about why he wanted to go to [insert school here] and his greatest accomplishments.

        Hunk from a year ago would have been furious at his attitude and the letter sitting so long unopened. He’d worked his ass off for years for that acceptance letter. Hunk from a year ago deserved to celebrate. Instead, he scribbled down a reminder to himself to text his grandma that he got in, slapped the post-it note on his dresser with the ever-increasing number of put off mundane tasks, and fell into bed.

 

        Hunk increasingly lost track of ‘normal’ life. Every day spent at the Garrison felt like something Hunk was wading through in a hazy fog. He tried to keep on top of things, but with all this strangeness he couldn’t be blamed for loosing track of a few details. A quiz here or there, writing his biweekly letter home a day or two late. He hadn’t even bothered to mention it to Pidge or Keith that he’d been accepted somewhere, let alone his dream school. That all was even less real when he was with them.

        His real life, the life that felt solid, like he had purpose, that was all in a desert shack and hidden in the middle of notebooks. The life he felt tethered to was reconstructing starships and chatting with Pidge about exciting new discoveries about alien computers. Real was Keith’s unwavering motivation as they trudged through sandstorms and chilled nights on their search to know more.

        They _had_ found more. The signal that had been emanating from the Lion ship was gone, but there were other strange signals to chase. The other sites, marked with carvings of Lions and giant warriors, were still important. Guided by the radar Pidge and he had crafted months ago, they were able to track the other, weaker but still foreign, signals deep into the caves. It led them to small crafts, no bigger than the simulator at the Garrison, hidden away like ancient burials.

        The first find had been almost as exciting as chasing down the escape pod that first night. It wasn’t a gigantic robotic lion, but it was sleek and white and alien looking. Hunk was in love at once. Pidge was scrambling to get in, just as ready to be in love as Hunk. The first alien vessel’s computer had been only what an escape pod needed, the bare minimum of technology. This looked like a ship meant to be travelled in, a real ship.

        The first set back was obvious even before Keith and Hunk pried the door open and let Pidge scramble to the control panel. The wear and tear on the ship looked minimal over all. Hunk could have been convinced the ship had shown up long after all the carvings, if it hadn’t been for the stalactite wedged through its hull. It had fallen on an area weakened by scorch marks, is the singed metal was any indication, which had given the giant mineral spear the perfect target. A much smaller stalagmite was forming on the wide broken off top where the water still dripped down from the same place in the ceiling as it had eons ago. Hunk guessed the new forming stalagmite at about a meter tall, and while he wasn’t a geology buff, he knew enough to know that was thousands of years of work.

 

         “Noooooo,” erupted from little ship, making Hunk and Keith both jolt. They exchanged quick, worried looks before jumping forward. Hunk wrenched the door back and Keith shot in first, Hunk close behind.

        The groan of dismay, while mellow dramatic, was well warranted. The computers on the ship had been scrubbed clean beyond even Pidge’s abilities to restore. Something had gone through and systematically wiped everything of use, right down to the lighting controls. Emergency lights flickered at Pidge’s attempts to start up the ship, taunting them with the knowledge that the ship was miraculously still otherwise functional.

 

        While the first find had only required a few shuffling side steps and a long ball of twine to make sure they got back to the entrance again, the second site forced them to do some serious spelunking. Hunk’s least favorite portion was the army crawl through a space between to huge slabs of rock. He had to stop a few times just to breath, but found he didn’t have the space to take the deep inhales he desperately needed. Pidge hadn’t understood the problem, but Pidge was proving to be a true gremlin, tiny and nimble, not to mention practically on his hands and knees while Hunk and Keith had to slither along.

        Keith took notice after a few delays. He stared back at him clearly confused, but instead of saying anything, his response was to hand Hunk the light. It was Hunk’s turn to be confused when no explanation came.

        He was about to ask, but after a moment he realized it was strangely satisfying to have a job. He kept him from tipping over into full blown panic in the tiny, enclosed place. It was a little easier to move when focusing on keeping the flashlight pointing forwards instead of the possibility of getting stuck and crushed and dying pre-buried by a mountain of rock.         Squashing his ability to panic even more solidly was Keith going on ahead without a light at all. Duty outweighed terror. He had to keep Keith from toppling over some unseen death ledge. He kept pace to keep Keith alive and found, before he knew it, they were out in the open again. He breathed in deep and relieved to be standing again.

 

        Anther ship waited for them on the other end of the horrible crawl. It was wedged deep into a tight crevice of rock, or maybe the ceiling had caved in somewhere in the thousands of years the ship had been laying hidden deep underground. A cave in would explain how it got so deep in the tight crevice.

        The ship had been crumpled so badly that only Pidge could get in far enough to check the interior. He rolled onto his back and shuffled in to see if there was anything still working. A faint glow flickered out from where Pidge had slid in. Then another groan of dismay. Once again, everything had been whipped off the ship’s computer. No navigation charts or ship logs. Just blank screens and emergency lights.

 

        The third signal they tracked hit a dead end before they could find the source. They’d followed the radar into the caves and found a huge pool of water that looked a hundred feet deep, with jagged stalagmites coating the flooded over floor. That hadn’t stopped Keith, of course. He’d just shrugged and went to jump in regardless. His recklessness served the team well as they quickly learned they had misjudged the pool. It was only a few inches deep, but the shallow pool had perfect reflection of the toothy roof of the cave.

        Walkable or not, that didn’t change the fact that it lead them to a dead end. And then another. And another. After a few weeks, they’d given up on the site, despite Keith’s protests.

         “There are other sites,” Pidge had insisted, getting antsy with their lack of progress after so many dead ends and dark caves.

         “Yeah, but there’s _this_ one,” Keith replied, stubbornly.

         “Yeah but _other sites_ ,” Pidge said, not with any additional argument, just louder. Keith hadn’t been happy, but a two to one vote put site #3 on hold while they explored the next signal.

 

        The fourth site’s ship was more like half a ship.

        This one hadn’t fared well in landing, Hunk guessed. Its hull was sheared off, leaving deep gashes in the walls and scattered pieces along the way deep into the cave. They barely needed the radar to find their way towards the fourth ship, the scarring leading straight to it.

        They had to repel down a ledge before they found the main wreckage. The damage to the cave was even more intense after the ship had gone off the ledge into the lower portion of the cave. Deep scars marred the cave walls, grinding off wing and hull alike in the crash that had slid constantly against one side. Hunk tried to decide how fast the ship must have plunged heedlessly into the caves to do so much damage to itself and the rock.

        When they neared the ship itself something glinted in the lights, catching Hunk’s attention. It looked like a helmet was wedged between the cave wall and the ship, as if it’d gotten stuck in those last moments of the crash, cracked and wedged there for millennia.

        Hunk knew all of this was from thousands and thousands of years ago, but the cracked helmet had made Hunk’s stomach twist uneasily. It pulled to the forefront the quiet, uncomfortable feeling he’d had about all the ships since the beginning. They all felt… haunted. Not in the ‘spooky ghost’ sort of way. It was the way the computers were so completely wiped, and the ships were shoved into the deep crevices of the Earth. It was knowing that these were piloted by _people_ , aliens sure but still people, and something going on was desperate enough that stranding themselves here was worth it. It was the feeling of something tragic. It was history so old and that it weighed the atmosphere down.

        The third ship didn’t have enough of itself left to try to even turn on the emergency lights. Hunk had a good time dissecting what remained of the carcass, but Pidge was uninterested and ready to leave as soon as the computer wouldn’t start.

        Keith agreed, as he never thought the they found were nearly as interesting at the lost signal, which was quintessentially Keith as far as Hunk was concerned. Keith was always searching. It didn’t matter if they’d found something, he still needed to find _more._ Hunk was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be done searching until they found living breathing aliens and Keith shook one of their hands.

 

        In the end, it was Keith’s stubbornness that had paid off.

        Leaving the third site had never sat well with him. He’d returned time and again, while Pidge and Hunk were at school, fulfilling their normal teenage responsibilities. He’d promised not to go in too deep alone, but Hunk saw that distant look in his eyes whenever he talked about the site. As a precaution, he had taken to texting him periodically to make sure he wasn’t trapped in a hole somewhere.

        Constant mother henning Keith via text was how he learned the extent of Keith’s obsession. Keith, despite all his seeming mystery, was rather blunt. That mystery didn’t come from deep insightful schemes, but from impulsiveness and a severe lack of explanations. In that spirit of impulsiveness, he had picked up one morning and spent the entire day other in the desert. He’d done this before, but Hunk felt it had reached a new level when he slept out there too.

        Early the following Friday morning Hunk received a text at the wee hours of the morning. Then another text. He wasn’t awake enough to care. The world could wait until a decent hour, or at least until after his first alarm went off.

        There were a few more buzzes and then Hunk’s phone started ringing. He groaned and let his hand flail down off the top bunk. He was nowhere near reaching his night stand so, with a heavy sigh, he flung his shoulder over to roll himself to the edge of his bed. He reached down blindly again and was able to snag his phone, left perched on top of a stack of textbooks for just such an occasion as this. He pulled it up, the charger coming with it half of the way before tugging out of the port and falling away.

        Hunk went for a groggy hello but didn’t have time to work up his vocal cords to the task before he was assaulted by a flurry of words. He was too startled by the cantor and almost giddy intonation to even pay attention to what was being said. That and he was mostly asleep still. He did manage to understand “second entrance” and a demand that Pidge and he come out right then.

         “Just, sit tight until Saturday,” Hunk suggested in a dazed mumble. He was fairly sure he’d promised Saturday to some club or another, but he wasn’t presenting anything. He could cancel.

         “No, you should come out now,” Keith repeated.

         “It’s…” Hunk rolled over to check his clock, down on the nightstand, despite the clock in his hand. His eyes were still bleary from his late night.

         “5:57,” Pidge offered from the lower bunk in a craggily voice.

         “5:57,” Hunk repeated. “Saturday-,” he started but didn’t get far.

         “Yeah, I can’t wait that long,” Keith cut in, bluntly.

         “It’s a cave. It’ll still be there Saturday like it was a thousand years ago,” Hunk reasoned, sighing and figuring he might as well start getting up if he was awake anyway. He rolled off of the top bunk with a thud. Pidge didn’t stir, as if he hadn’t contributed to the conversation moments ago.

         “I know. We have to go in though,” he insisted.

         “We will,” Hunk had the phone between his shoulder and ear as he dug for new socks, ignoring the now double layered sticky notes of ‘normal life’ to-do post-its.

         “Today,” Keith said. Before Hunk could protest further, and he planned to, Keith went on, “I have a feeling about this one.”

         “I’ve noticed you have a lot of ‘feelings’ about places,” Hunk said, almost Keith levels of blunt so early in the morning. Pidge snorted out from the pillow that consumed most of his face.

         “Yeah, and mostly they’re right,” Keith replied and Hunk wanted to scoff at this, but he couldn’t. Keith _was_ right. He’d run off into the desert and, sure Lance had beaten him there, but he’d found the giant robot lion’s cave. He had an uncanny ability to walk in approximately the right direction even when Pidge was lagging behind with the radar. He was good with ‘feelings’. More importantly, Hunk was pretty sure he’d go in alone if they didn’t show up.

         “Okay, after class-,” Hunks started. He should have known better than to concede any ground

         “I’m going in in an hour, after I pick up the equipment,” Keith informed. Hunk sighed his loudest most put-upon sigh. He turned from the receiver.

         “We’re skipping school, Pidge,” Hunk said flatly.

         “Whoooo,” came the muffled reply from the pile of comforter and pillows and the random leg stuck out as a temperature balance. An arm popped out to wave with halfhearted enthusiasm.

         “We’ll get Lee to cover for us,” Hunk said, mostly to himself.

         “Good,” Keith agreed over the phone. Hunk thought it sounded like he was smiling. At least he was excited. Hunk smiled a little to himself, defeated but at least willing to let Keith’s enthusiasm be contagious.

        Pidge sat up, a muss of hair and oversized pajamas, still half buried in a nest of blankets. He gave Hunk a look, but just shook his head, sleepily. Not ready to contribute more to the world yet.

        Keith had already hung up. He didn’t often bother to say ‘bye’ or ‘see you soon’. He just hung up. Hunk had gotten used to it.

 

        Lee, despite looking nervous and twitchy like any freshman involved in shenanigans way above their paygrade, agreed instantly to help. Pidge once told Hunk that Lee was a ‘nark’, and would refuse to help, but that was hard to believe. Hunk never had a problem getting a favor out of him. For all his nerves he seemed genuinely excited to be some little part of their secret plans and covert operations. He had a lot of half hidden smiles and excited jitters.

        Pidge had suggested it was because Hunk was a ‘cool senior’. That sounded a bit ridiculous to Hunk. It also made Him worry Lee thought this was an elaborate hazing process. He’d be more worried about this is Lee was getting into any serious trouble, but all their requests mostly just entailed passing messages along to the right people and occasionally uploading a minor computer virus into the Garrison’s computer system.

 

        They didn’t make it that far out to the caves in the hour given, but to Hunk’s relief Keith hadn’t gone in alone, instead waiting outside to flag them down. He was pacing at the edge of the new-found entrance looking jittery. Hunk smiled, impressed that he could keep himself above ground despite the opportunity for ‘answers’ just below his feet.

        The new opening was small, but Keith had already smashed it open wide enough for the three of them to make it in. There was a sheer drop below into a wide open cavern. This would have been daunting a semester ago, but now they were experts in spelunking, making the trip down easy.

        Despite all their dead ends before, when they reached the bottom, the radar was screeching from Pidge’s backpack. They turned their flashlights around and found the ship just sitting there. It felt exposed after all the time it had taken to find it, and the deep hiding places of the other ships. Even more startling was how undamaged it looked. It wasn’t crushed, shredded, or speared.

        Pidge confirmed the computer systems were all still useless. That didn’t diminish his excitement, though, because he’d kept Hunk up the night before theorizing about solutions. The idea had been to take the escape pod’s information and try to integrate it into a rebuilt combination of the buried vessels they’d found. If Hunk could patch together a functional ship out of the one’s they’d found, Pidge was sure he could make it compatible enough with the other alien tech.

        With a whole ship just sitting there, now, it was like Christmas for them both. Keith had to step back when the two swarmed the new find, excitedly and jabbered back and forth about how this accelerated their plans. Keith, picking up the vibe, set to planning how they could bring equipment down.

 

        This was Hunk’s real life. His laughs and the clattering of tools echoed off the cavern walls as he became familiar with the smell of underground. He set up ropes and pulleys to bring down a rusted old generator Keith had bartered off some old dooms day guy’s widow, along with the rest of his bunker supplies. The three of them worked by the shafts of light coming down from the mouth of the cave as long as they could to save energy because none of them had jobs or money enough to buy extra fuel for the generator.

        The college acceptance letter on his desk, far away and back in his dorm room… that was fake. That letter wasn’t bringing him closer to his goal anymore. Progress was up. Progress was lugging the busted escape pod to the ancient ship underground. Progress was swapping the working computer system for the wiped one. Progress was scratching down calculations for how much food and supplies they could fit into the small ship, and with strict rationing how far into space that would get them. Progress was space.

        Sometimes he forgot the rest of the world didn’t know. It became so normal. The pursuit so constant and loud in his thoughts that it felt like everyone should know. It was only the three of them, though, no one else in the world. He found himself at a loss for small talk because the only exciting updates about his life were a secret. It made it easier to pull away from the world around him when he didn’t know how to talk to them anymore.

        As graduation loomed, cap and gown hung in his closet, Hunk still hadn’t figured out exactly how the ship ran yet, but he was making progress. The tubes of crystalline batteries, which had emitted the signal they’d been able to track, slowly started to make more sense, test after test. Pidge was working hard to bridge the gap between the two systems and bypass the cleaned-out computers.

        Pidge seemed certain of everything, even the impossible things. So did Keith. Month after month, Hunk realized, slowly but surely, he did too. He thought it might have been the influence of the other two, but the more they worked on the impossible project, the more he realized it was because he had no other option. This would work, because it had to. If there was only one thing to do, they would just have to do it.

        They were going to get to space.

        They were going to find Lance.

 

~*~*~

 

        Lance knew the only reason he thought the green goopy substance was amazing was because he’d only had the Blade’s sad gray oatmeal for god knows how long. He waxed poetic about the importance of variety in one’s diet so hard he could have been Hunk. If he had given himself more room to think about it, he’d have a lot more to say about Hunk, but he wasn’t ready to be that emotionally compromised when in front of a beautiful space princess yet. So, he didn’t let him mind wander in the food spectrum beyound Nutrient Oatmeal and Green Space Goop.

        It took a full week before the Blade arrived at the castle. Well, the blade was already at the castle, of course, because Lance and Ulaz were there. They were not the Bladiest of the Blade of Marmora, though. Even Allura started to relax around Ulaz, though that only meant she stopped watching him like a hawk every time she was within sight of him.

        Coran took to him faster. Something about quoting ancient poetry won him over. Lance didn’t ask. If it wasn’t used for wooing space babes, he wasn’t interested. He was glad they could bond about the difference between styles of writing from the second intergalactic renaissance, all the more power to them. Their friendship helped smooth things over with Allura… a little. She was a hard sell on the whole ‘Galra fighting the Galra Empire’ thing, still.

        Lance won her over much faster, if only because she had no other potential paladins to rest her hopes on and he wasn’t purple. She took Lance on tours of the castle and even let Ulaz fill her in on current events, where current events meant everything that happened in the past 10,000 years. It felt like trust was building between them. Allura was starting to open up, bit by bit.

        Then the rest of the Blade of Marmora arrived.

        Allura didn’t take the ‘invasion’ well. It wasn’t the entire fleet, but enough that the castle’s prolixity alerts started blaring and the Altaen princess looked ready to blow the dozen ships out of the sky.

         “Friends!” Lance shouted, running after her into the control room and waving his hands frantically. “They’re friends! The Blade of Marmora!” he cried before she could start an assault. Allura was already glaring suspiciously at Ulaz, who waited patiently in the doorway to keep himself from seeming too aggressive, nor suspiciously out of sight.

         “ _His_ friends,” was her only, less than enthusiastic response, but she let the weapons power down. The shields took another few days, full of reassurances.

 

        An agreement to meet in person was decided on after a handful of days. The Blade ships landed in the courtyard in a neat semicircle around Blue. Allura walked out in her full princess regalia to greet them. Lance and Coran fell naturally into place a pace behind her, flanking either side. It felt natural when she moved with her royalty walk. Lance felt like a knight, or at least a badass bodyguard at her side.

        The little delegation met with the Blade’s, led by Kolivan. All of them arrived barefaced, which was a bit shocking for Lance as some these guys even Lance hadn’t seen unmasked. They had been warned by Ulaz that hiding their faces would only make Princess Allura more suspicious. Next to him on, either side, stood  a row of three Blade members, rigid and silent as ever. Ulaz walked past where Allura halted her group, but didn’t walk all the way to Kolivan’s. He stopped between the two and turned to stand as a third party.

         “Princess Allura,” Kolivan spoke. It was technically a greeting, but it held nothing but the bare minimum requirements to be so.

         “Galra,” Allura replied, not asking for a name. Lance flinched. That was a bad sign.

         “Princess, this is Kolivan, he’s--,” Lance started, stepping forward, trying to animate his voice and lighten the mood.

         “I am of the Blade of Marmora. We seek out all avenues to overthrow The Empire. Your cooperation is required,” Kolivan spoke over him. Lance bit back a groan because he knew what was coming next.

         “Required?” Allura’s voice rose sharply, her posture stiffening. Lance leapt up next to her.

         “Both of us,” he blurted, loud and distracting. “Both of us cooperating with each other is required.” She didn’t seem fooled by the hasty correction, but she took a breath before she could go on, and that helped. The two stared at each other quietly instead of a fight breaking out.

         “What sort of ‘cooperation’ do you think I would give you?” Allura asked, starting their negotiation in the most negative light short of flat out refusal. That was better than Lance had expected and he brightened again.

         “We have collected one paladin,” Ulas said, gesturing towards Lance.  
“The Empire has one of the Lions of Voltron, but it has not been piloted yet. It is in the best interest that we keep the other lions out of The Empire’s control,” he stepped in to explain. Allura glanced at him and her expression was minutely softer than towards Kolivan. That was a victory. She really was warming up to him.

         “Give us the location of the other lions and-,” Kolivan started in his deep even voice.

         “Give you what?” Allura’s head snapped back to the Blade envoy, indignation back. “Do you think I would hand over such sensitive information to some random Galra pretending to be a ‘resistance group’?” she snarled.

         “You do not have the resources or the manpower to protect such valuable commodities,” Kolivan explained, placid in the face of her anger.

         “They don’t need protecting, that’s why they were hidden,” Allura snipped back, her voice surprisingly defensive.

         “Two have been found-,”

         “One,” she corrected sternly. “Do not try to lie to me, or at the very least get your story straight with your accomplice,” she said, glancing to Ulaz then back to the rest of the Blade. “The Red Lion was captured in battle and it took over 10,000 years for the Galra to find the next.”

         “They will find the others,” Kolivan assured, sterner now that he had been interrupted.

         “In another 10,000 years.”

        Lance didn’t have to break up the stony stare off that followed. The blaring of sirens broke it for him. Allura’s head snapped back to the castled, then to Kolivan, her expression dark. Kolivan didn’t have time to be insulted by her distrust. He had paused, eyes intent but unfocused as information was fed to his earpiece.

         “You-,” Allura’s voice started in an accusatory tone, but Kolivan cut her off.

         “Our position has been compromised. Leave,” he ordered. Allura was primed to argue any order, but with Coran already back at the nearest computer terminal confirming approaching enemy ships, she had little option. She shot one last glare at the Galra before jogging back towards the castle.

        Lance hesitated. He was about to ask what was happening, or where he should go, but Kolivan had turned to his squad. He took two steps, turned sharply, and before Lance knew what had happened a head rolled across the courtyard. Kolivan’s blade returned to a short dagger before Lance had processed the attack.

        Not a single Blade member flinched, except for Lance. Lance gasped audible as the body dropped. Kolivan didn’t give it a second look. The attack was not questioned.

         “To your stations,” Kolivan’s voice rose over the alarms echoing around the castle’s towers. “Cloak yourselves and provide necessary escort maneuvers until the Castle is out of range.” The Blade members sans one turned and dashed to their duties. Kolivan turned on Ulaz then.

         “You understand this is your fault?” Kolivan asked, grim and serious.

         “Yessir,” Ulaz agreed and Lance gaped. He was at a loss for how this could be Ulaz’s fault. He was still reeling from the beheading he’d just witnessed.

         “Good. You and the human will remain with The Castle. There will be no contact until we have cleared all possible informants out.”

         “Understood.”

        Lance didn’t know what was understood, but Allura’s voice boomed over the intercom. “Lance! The Blue Lion must be protected.”

        The rest was a blur as he rushed to Blue and flew her to safety in the castle, which was, apparently, a giant space ship. He couldn’t even take the time to be properly impressed, though, because he didn’t know how to get the image of the head rolling across the courtyard out of his mind. He wished they’d been wearing their masks. He wished he didn’t recognize the face as it fell. On top of everything else, he still had no idea how this could be Ulaz’s fault.

        His mind swam and he longed to be in one of the little ships buzzing around on the enormous tactical screens in the command room, protecting the castle. Ulaz wouldn’t let him return to Blue to help. To Lance’s surprise, Allura agreed. She looked like she was also considering shooting Ulaz out the airlock for being purple. More pressing mattered kept her too occupied to act on her suspicions, though.

        A rune, hanging huge in the void of space, appeared at Allura’s command. Standing with a hand pressed to two stands on either side of the main controls, she plunged the castle towards it as soon as they were out off planet far enough to create it. They disappeared in the same stretching blur that Blue had pulled them through. This time, no ships passed through with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _really_ want Hunk to have no idea he's a teen heartthrob, and all the underclassman to have at least a little bit of a crush on him. Have I said this before? It's still really true.
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Getting involved with the war effort and holographic heart to hearts.


	10. Lessons and Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lance Learns to be a Paladin and Allura Learns to sneak._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was cut in half, but it's probably for the best. I think I'm still on target for 14 chapters...
> 
> Next chapter is mostly done, should be up with in a week!
> 
> As always lemme know what you think of the AU so far! hmu in the comments or on tumblr at [avagueidea](http://www.avagueidea.tumblr.com/).  
> ♥♥♥

        The Blade stayed true to Kolivan’s word. There was not even a peep from them following the escape. There hadn’t been much in the way of a chase. Proximity alerts and beheadings had made the whole thing feel very dramatic, but there had been little in the way of concrete danger. And then there was silence. For all Lance knew, the uneventful escape was because the blade had all died glorious fiery deaths protecting them. He didn’t think so, but Ulaz didn’t say a word about them. Lance couldn’t bring himself to ask, still lingering on those parting words.

        Lance didn’t have a shortage of distractions, luckily. As the only current, living Paladin of Voltron, the Princess and Coran had heavy expectations for him. There were mental exercises, training robots to fight, and etiquette training. He was pretty sure the last one Coran just made up because Lance couldn’t stop laughing that the spork was apparently the universal utensil of all super high-tech alien species. He nearly laughed himself to tears because Hunk had been right. The future was sporks. He apologized in his heart, across the cosmos for having ever doubted it.

        Allura seemed as thankful for the distractions as Lance. Ten thousand years of history was a lot to digest, and behind her graceful air was a tension. Everything she knew, other than this castle and the Lions, was not just gone, but had been intentionally and systematically destroyed. In her youth she’d been taught the stars were at her disposal. Now her universe narrowed to a pinprick. Lance couldn’t blame her if the castle felt restricting.

        After fleeing the four had met to discuss how to proceed. They didn’t know what information might have been compromised, if any. Lance had seen firsthand how meticulous the Blade was when secrecy was on the line, so he wasn’t overly concerned. Kolivan had still killed someone who was at the castle, though.

         “We have to keep Blue a secret,” he said, decidedly.

         “They might already know,” Allura countered.

         “They might not,” he replied.

         “Why not tell them we’re here? Put the fear of Voltron in them!” Coran offered.

         “We don’t have Voltron,” Allura informed, solemnly. “We have _A_ lion.”

         “Two,” Coran corrected. He received a sharp look, at which he glanced to Ulaz and ducked his head a little sheepishly. Clearly, he realized that the Galra wasn’t supposed to be privy to that knowledge.

         “We cannot use the other, so it doesn’t matter either way,” Allura said. Before Lance could bull in with his obvious questions she turned to him. “Until we have recovered all of the lions, including my father’s, held by the Galra, no one cannot gain access to the one in the castle.”

         “So, until he can whip out Voltron in his full, mighty, robot fighting machine glory, we keep a low profile?” Lance offered.

         “We do not want any more attention on us,” she agreed. Ulaz looked pleased, but he said nothing and his face didn’t change, and he didn’t move. Lance might have imagined he looked pleased, actually. He felt like Ulaz agreed.

         “So, we start quietly collecting the other lions?” he asked.

         “Well, that won’t do us much good,” Coran piped in flippantly.

         “Why?” he asked.

         “If we do not have the paladins, there is no reason to risk revealing the Lions’ hiding places,” Allura explained, her eyebrows knitting into serious consideration. “Knowing my father, few will be in areas easy to access by tractor beams, so moving them would just call a lot of attention and put them and us at risk.”

         “So… we need paladins,” Lance concluded. Coran and Allura nodded in thoughtful unison and he realize. The two had very different personality types, but there was something similar in their gestures, Lance figured they must have known each other a long time before being frozen.

         “We can, after a safe time, contact the Resistance Fighters,” Ulaz suggested, his first words in the council. Given the glare Allura gave him, Lance was surprised when she didn’t instantly rebuff him.

         “After a safe time… but I need more information on them. What sort of organization are they. Who are their leaders…” Ulaz nodded.

         “They are a disorganized and shifting group. They have not had a strong singular leader in recent time. They have been a disruptive network against The Empire’s progress on contested boarders, though they have no won ground historically. More recently, they have been known for petty destructive attacks on convoys and supply chains,” Ulaz explained, at Allura’s frown he went on, “But they will have many fiercely loyal Rebels.”

         “Loyal to what?” Allura asked.

         “Freedom,” Ulaz replied without hesitation. This seemed to please Allura, or at least satisfy her, because she just nodded.

        By the end of the meeting they had decided to stay hidden and wait to see if any news of the Blue Lion or the Castle filtered to them. In the meantime, they all stayed aboard the ship and stayed quiet.

        Lance had become used to regular missions in the latter half of his time with The Blade of Marmora. He found himself getting increasingly antsy in the Castle. Allura had started off restless, despite agreeing that keeping a low profile would be wise. She had left off her life in the middle of a war. The quiet was a shock to her system. In response she worked hard at Lance’s training.

        Lance, in kind, started teaching Allura as well. She might have been able to pull his arm out of its socket in a fight, or talk circles around him about Voltron’s lore and space history, but he had something important. He’d been trained by the Blade for stealth. This fact didn’t impress her much at first, until she realize that stealth might be the only sort of help she could offer until they had all the lions.

        The two started trading lessons. For every beating Lance received from the gladiator robot in the training hall, which Lance thanked the Blade for preparing him for, Lance taught Allura how to avoid camera radius and deactivate an Empire Sentry without signaling an alert. Lance learned what Voltron meant as a symbol of hope and freedom, and Allura learned a set of shifting cyphers for encoding communications. Stealth for valor became their daily exchange.

        Lance and Allura started plotting. They knew that they needed to get out of the castle and start doing _something_. The waiting was slowly killing them both. They had to do something.

        Their first mission Lance had suited up in his Blade of Marmora outfit, mask and all. Allura found a dark space suit, but refused a Marmora mask.

         “Your face checks, though,” Lance had protested. It took her a long moment and Lance drawing a checkmark in the air a few times before her hand went to her cheeks. She looked sad for a moment.

         “This is a unique trait now in the universe, isn’t it?” she asked, surprisingly softly.

         “Damning evidence of the Empire’s failure, in fact,” Lance replied, chipperly, combating the softness in her tone, not allowing it to settle in the air. He flashed her a smile, “We better wait for a properly dramatic moment to rub it in their faces, don’t you think?” After a pause, she flashed him a smile back.

         “For now, we do this for the good of the universe,” she said.

         “Real heroes don’t need everyone to know their names,” Lance agreed.

         “Until the proper dramatic moment,” she tagged on, and his smile’s wattage doubled.

         “Exactly!” he said, putting his mask on. She nodded and found a partial mask. It was technically a partial face respirator, but it went up past the blue checks on her cheeks.

         “We look crazy badass,” Lance announced, “There’s no way we can fail when we look this good.”

         “Absolutely,” Allura agreed without hesitation.

        The first mission was a mess. Good luck and a surprisingly well aim pebble got them through it. It wasn’t perfectly planned, but together they balanced the mission, just barely tipping it into success.

        They started planning and executing small missions regularly. Ulaz gave his technical support without admitting he was condoning the behavior. Coran simply gave up the façade after a few days and threw himself fully into a support roll. They started quietly hitting bigger targets, as weeks folded into months. Finally, they decided it was time to try something big. Conveniently, they found an enemy base to sabotage. Quiet and out of the way, it was a perfect practice run.

 

        The shot wasn’t a difficult one. Lance had made much harder, but few while so out of breath. He didn’t have time to catch it though. Allura was moving already. He took the shot, the foamy substance softly hit the camera lens. He sprinted to his next check point and rolled into place and took the second shot just as Allura’s figure darted past the first and rounded the corner into the second camera’s view. The second camera took a direct hit. Allura rounded the doorframe and slid in next to the control panel, hidden as the lenses cleared of the fuzzy covering.

        If all went as planned, it should have looked like a static blip in the feed, common with the stormy atmosphere of this little planet in a distant system. It was at the edge of The Empire’s territory, and of any territory, as far as Lance knew. The outpost had been a surprise to stumble across even for Ulaz, who was generally well informed on such matters. Disrupting its operations wasn’t likely to send reverberations through the Empire, but it was a good place to start testing out their skills on full security networks.

         “Clear,” Allura’s low voice informed. She wasn’t even breathless despite her mad dash to the door. Lance shifted to watch her position as she pried open the door pad and inserted Ulaz’s credentials. This was also why they were taking such a low risk target to start. No reinforcements could arrive so far out if alarms went off, and Ulaz couldn’t make guarantees that his codes were still active.

        Lance breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the door slide open. He stayed ready to come in for back up if needed, but he’d trained Allura well. She might have a preference to brute strength when a door was between her and her goals, but if she was given the tools, she’d use them. They’d given her everything down to the schematics of the building.

        This was a Standard Base. That meant the guard rotations and halls were all standardized. Outposts in warzones had much more complex and shifting routines to contend with, as Lance had learned in his time with the Blade. This should be easy in comparison. No surprises.

        It took almost ten minutes before Allura emerged again, but her coming was foretold by the sudden darkness that fell over the entire compound. Lance started giving encoded directions instantly. He’d memorized all the Standard layouts at the beginning of his training with Antok. Allura and him had run this in the simulator until he ran out of saliva and Allura out of energy. He knew how fast she was moving and which juncture she was at.

         “Left, right. Pause for twelve ticks….” Lance paused with her. “Go. Left. Left. Right,” he raddled off with pauses just long enough for her to make it to the next turn. His eyes were closed, envisioning her movements. “Straight on until morning, Princess,” he finished, a grin on his face when she emerged, forcing the door open and then closed with monstrous strength alone now that the power had been cut off.

 

        It wasn’t long before the compound was abandoned, the officers evacuating to a large ship, likely over burdened by Galra soldiers. The chip from Ulaz hadn’t just shut the power down, it had critically maimed the life support. There would be security droids roaming the grounds, but they were on an even stricter and sparser rotation than their living counterparts. Breaking in would be easy now.

        The plan had been reconnaissance. They planned to pull data while the compound was empty. It was all just a dry run to see if they’d be confident hitting larger targets. That changed when Allura took a wrong turn in the flickering emergency lights, going down the wrong hall. She pulled a door open as Lance was catching up to her. Before he could explain she was prying open the wrong door, they’d looked in.

        The room was not on any Standard schematics Lance had seen. It was a large room that took up half of the usual halls for the personal quarters. Instead, in the reddish flickering lights, Lance and Allura found a stock pile of weapons far too large for the small base to utilize. Stranger, were the cannisters that covered the whole right side of the cavernous room.

         “What is this?” Allura muttered.

         “…A failed invasion point?” Lance offered after some hesitation. “The ships are all a few models out of date. Still good, but not new,” he offered.

         “We have to get this out of here,” Allura said suddenly.

         “What? Like, you me and Coran just start carrying all this out?” Lance asked.

         “No but… we can’t just leave it here,” she insisted. They both paused, staring at the stock pile.

         “There might be a Resistance Outpost not far from here,” Lance said. Ulaz hadn’t exactly been open with his knowledge of the resistance, but Lance thought he could get it out of him.

         “Mm,” Allura nodded quickly. “Let’s get these out of Galra hands,” she agreed. They left, their tester mission suddenly feeling a lot bigger. They snuck out quickly to return to the castle and readjust their plans. Part one was getting intel from Ulaz.

 

         “Soooooo…” Lance said in that way that meant he wanted something. Ulaz turned to him silently waiting. “How about that Resistance base in the Outer Stretches, huh?” he fished.

         “You still want to see the pirates den,” Ulaz stated. He couldn’t lie, he’d been dying to meet the other, brasher and louder part of the fight against the Empire. He imagined space cowboys and pirates with a valiant streak, and he thought he could bridge the gap between them and the Blade. He’d dreamt about it. This wasn’t about that, though.

         “Do you think it’d be safe to make contact?” he asked, ignoring the possibly unintended jibe.

         “I have not heard anything to suggest otherwise,” he said. Lance felt something in that statement. He could take his win and run with it, but the comment from the courtyard still rattled around in his brain. Kolivan said it was his fault and Ulaz had taken that blame.

         “Ulaz…” Lance started. He cleared his throat and leaned and tried to play it cool and casual. “So… about when we separated from the Blade.”

         “Yes?” Ulaz said.

         “What Kolivan said. He asked you if you knew this was your fault,” he trailed off.

         “And I said, yes. I understood,” he replid, simply.

         “Well, I didn’t, What happened there?” Lance asked. Ulaz paused to consider his words.

         “The Blade has stayed intact for 10,000 years,” he started, the words building up behind each one chosen, slowly and precisely, “because they were slow and cautious. Sometimes to a fault. This _has_ kept the order alive, and I cannot deny the importance of their continued existence. In all this time, though, The Empire has only grown. The Blade is steady, but never growing. Growth takes risk. We have failed to take many risks that may have hindered The Empire.” Lance opened his mouth to protest, “But,” Ulaz cut in at his expression, “without the long history of caution, we would not have been prepared to take advantage of the reemergence of the Lions of Voltron. It is a complicated issue,” he explained, meaning he had complicated feelings about it.

         “But what does this have to do with you? Why did he blame you for whatever happened back there?” Lance pressed.

         “Because I stretched our resources thin and reached our arms into dangerous territory. Kolivan never approved of how hard I pressed our sources, or even some people I considered sources,” he said. His expression grew grim, even by Blade standards. “By opening communication to insiders not vetted by generations of loyalty, I threatened the secrecy of our entire organization. I pressed for answers with urgency rather than caution.”

         “Yeah, because you had to find the Blue Lion,” Lance said.

         “Yes, because I felt it was important to intervene before others could act on the information,” Ulaz agreed.

         “So, it worked,” Lance said, still unclear on the blame.

         “It is possible I drew more attention to the Lion by pursuing it,” Ulaz contradicted. “It’s possible if I had let things play their course, you may have arrived here moments after you first sat in the pilot’s chair and The Empire would have nothing to pursue at all,” he added. Lance wanted to protest, but Ulaz put up a hand to quell his words. “I might have also acted in the most prudent manner to insure The Blade’s purpose did not become meaningless. My fault is not in action, but my lack of risk assessment,” he explained.

         “I don’t know what would have happened if you guys didn’t show up,” Lance admitted, he reached up to Ulaz’s shoulder and pulled the alien’s yellow eyes to him. They focused, losing their far-off look. “But… I’m glad you found me. I wouldn’t have any idea what I was doing out here without you.”

        Ulaz was silent a long moment, seeming to contemplate Lance’s words, and then he did something odd. He smiled. There was a little bit of fang in it, something slightly ridiculous sneaking around the seriousness of his overall demeaner. For just a moment Lance’s mind jumped back to Earth, but not where he would have expected. Instead of friends or family, the smile made him think of Keith. It was such a bewildering connection, looking at this stoic, giant, purple alien, that he shoved it aside quickly.

         “Thank you, Lance,” Ulaz said, “Your confidence is comforting.”

         “So, now it’s my turn to take a risk,” Lance announced..

         “I will get you a contact in the Resistance,” Ulaz agreed.

         “My man!” Lance cheered, punching his shoulder enthusiastically. He then rushed off to find Allura.

        The princess had already assumed he would get permission. The faith in him was flattering. She shoved a bundle at his chest. “Put that on and get comfortable. We’re contacting them as the Castle of Lions. It’s time we stopped sneaking around.” She sounded too determined for Lance to argue. He was ready for something a little less cloak and dagger anyway. The bright white and blue armor pieces in his arms looked promising.

 

         “Why hello Princess, funny running into you here,” Lance said, leaning on the doorway into the large dining area. She sat alone at a long white table and he approached, putting on his best smarmy smirk, strutting to show off his new space suit. The white armor felt refreshing and bright after so long in dark colors. This was his Paladin armor. The armor for the pilot of Blue. He looked good in it, hero of the universe sort of good. The sharp wing-like cut of blue on the chest made him prouder than he had any right to be. Not to mention his shoulders looked killer in it.

        Allura’s nose scrunched up at the comment and put down her spork with a light sigh. She looked over and paused.

         “Well, I suppose you look presentable like that,” she conceded.

         “More than presentable, I look _dashing_!” Lance announced, going a swift spin and hitting a pose when he spun back around to face her.

         “Did Coran tell you that?” she asked.

         “I told Coran that!” he corrected, grinning. “And he agreed,” Lance added.

         “I’m sure he did,” Allura replied, rolling her eyes, Lance thought he saw the edge of a smile at the corners of her lips. He sat down on the table next to her, leaning his head onto one hand.

         “Come on, you can admit it. I look good,” he said.

         “It’s made to fit any alien figure, no matter how hideous,” she replied, her voice deadpan, she was so close to smiling. He could feel it.

         “Look Princess,” he said, leaning into her space on the table, “Your gorgeous. I'm gorgeous. I think we know what has to happen.” He put a teasing smile onto his lips and waggled an eyebrow for good measure. Allura looked up at him with a forced scowl.

         “Don't think for a second that just because you aren't purple that means-!” She started to protest. Lance’s grinned widened and she stopped short. “Oh, get out, I’m trying to eat!” she snipped at him, but she was smiling now. He’d won.

He moved just barely out of range of her shooing gesture. Leaning back, he crossed his legs, making sure his figure looked good. She sighed and conceded, “You look very official.”

         “Aaaand,” he prompted. She should have known better than to give an inch.

         “And the blue matches your eyes,” she offered, but the spork snapped up between them before he could ask for me. “And that’s all. I need to eat and prepare for contacting the Resistance, and so do you,” she said with a sharp stabbing motion towards his chest.

        That was good enough for Lance. He hopped up from the table and started for the door. He was ready to charm the pants off the whole damn Resistance.

 

 

        Matt hadn’t batted an eyelash when Shiro joined the resistance and started organizing things right away. He wasn’t surprised that in the span of a few months he’d gone from a recruit with a shady past to practically running the show. It was just his nature. It was also how he coped with everything that had happened. Matt hadn’t had the best time in lock up, or in the missions that followed. He had his share of scars. He’d been in hard situations, shady places, inhospitable environments. He’d fought for his life, but not constantly. He hadn’t been unceasingly thrown into a pit to kill or be killed with the jeering of an alien crowd. He hadn’t lost limb to experimentation, and watched be replaced. He’d seen war, but not the things Shiro had.

        For all that, Shiro didn’t falter in his duty. In fact, Matt might not have known it had affected him at all if they only saw each other in the base. He’d have missed the nights Shiro woke up in a cold sweat, hand glowing as he tried to pull it off, too panicked to remember how. He could have easily missed how rarely Shiro slept at all, muttering about static in his ear and rubbing the scar at this temple. He might have ignored the vacant look in his eyes when he had nothing to do. Luckily, ‘nothing to do’ moments were rare at the Rebel Base.

        Today Matt busied himself trying to get old tech to interface with even older tech. It didn’t matter how much more advanced aliens were than earth when the devices were decafeebs old. Shiro had received an oddly encrypted message requesting an audience with the rebel leader. Neither of them had known that the “Rebel Leader” was Shiro until he announced it to the base and found all eyes watching him expectantly. So, Matt had given Shiro his heavy hooded cloak, to hide his face in case this was a set up, and set up a little room for taking the mysterious caller.

        He was still running around when the transmission came in. The odd encryption took a few moments for Matt to arrange, but he got it patched through on the mismatched technology.

         “Hello,” a prim and solid voice rang out over the little speaker system and Matt grinned, pleased with his handy work. “Are you the leader of the Resistance.”

         “I represent the Coalition,” Shiro replied. He sounded confident. There wasn’t much in the way of ‘coalition’, more a ragtag group, but it sure as hell sounded good.

         “Good. I have a proposition for you,” the speaker went on. She sounded regal and even more certain of herself than Shiro, if that was possible.

         “What sort of proposition are you offering?” Shiro asked. Matt skipped around the set up to make sure the camera was working and they had a visual on screen. He also might have been curious about the owner of the voice.

         “We have come into-,” the regal voice had started, but he must had edged into the view of the camera, because she was cut off sharply by a second voice. He saw a cloud of white hair whipping around, the woman clearly shocked at being interrupted, and a guy who looked like he could have been a human if Matt didn’t know any better.

         “Pidge?!” the second voice burst, voice crackling their speakers with the volume. Matt froze. Matt’s heart froze too. His blood had stopped, and he had stopped.

         “What-,” both Shiro and the woman on the other side of the screen had started in matching confusion. Matt rushed forward and fully into view, his heart starting up again all at once.

         “How do you know Katie?” he asked, he could feel his pulse right to his fingertips.

         “Who?” the man asked, looking startled. “I’m sorry. I don’t-you looked like a friend of mine,” he said confused and apologetic.

         “You said Pidge,” he confirmed.

         “Yes?” the man’s eyes were darting around, looking for an out from Matt’s sudden intensity.

         “That’s Katie?” he said.

         “No, see, Pidge was just like this guy I knew who looked kinda like you, but smaller…” the man trailed off, confused. “Pidge Gunderson…”

         “That’s Katie,” he confirmed. Gundersun had been the name they’d always joked about using if ‘the man’ had ever come after them. This guy knew Katie. “Who are you? How do you know my sister? Is she safe? They haven’t gotten to Earth, have they?” he asked, all in a rush. Shiro put a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. Matt released his grip on the camera, but didn’t stop staring at the young man, who seemed too startled to respond for a long moment.

         “I’m Lance,” he said, still sounding startled, but then cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Lance and I don’t know your sister, just someone named Pidge, but I know The Empire has not reached Earth yet,” he sounded certain of that.

         “Pidge _is_ my sister,” Matt tried to explain. Pidge wasn’t exactly a common name, and what were the odds that there was a _real_ Pidge Gunderson out there that just so happened to have a strong Holt family resemblance. His comment was lost as Shiro pulled down his hood.

         “Oh my god! You’re Shirogane Takahashi,” Lance blurted.

         “I am,” Shiro said, nodding and taking the surprise celebrity status well. Matt imagined he was glad it was for his achievements on Earth instead of in the fighting pits.

         “Oh-OH! And that means you’re Mathew Holt,” Lance said, the dots connecting in his head into a sudden picture. His eyes opened comically wide. “Who has a sister… who goes by Pidge… That’s why he was so obsessed with the Kerberos Mission,” he muttered. Hands came up to either side of his head, “Oh my god, Pidge is a girl. I’ve been lied to…” he sounded scandalized.

         “So, you DO know my sister!” Matt said, loud and triumphant.

         “Is she a 14 year old nerd who can hack into anything?” Lance asked.

         “That would be my Katie,” Matt preened back.

         “Oh my god…” Lance trailed off, still seeming at a loss.

         “And she’s safe?” he asked.

         “As far as I know,” he replied.

         “Lance,” Shiro said thoughtfully, “You were from the Garrison.” Lance blinked owlishly then he was beaming.

         “Yes!” he confirmed. He looked proud to be recognized.

         “You were in the cargo program,” Shiro went on and Lance’s grin wavered for a moment.

         “Not cargo,” he corrected quickly. “Exploration Class Pilot,” he assured.

         “This is a far way out for any exploration,” Shiro said, with deadpan humor.

         “Yeah… you’re telling me,” he agreed, laughing.

         “I think,” the regal woman finally cut in and Matt’s eyes jumped back to her, able to appreciate her Warrior Space Princess vibe for the first time. “We might need to reschedule this conversation for another time,” she suggested in a down to business manner. She turned to her companion. “Lance, are they trust worthy?” she asked.

         “Oh, yeah! Without a doubt,” Lance agreed instantly. Shiro’s reputation winning them points, no doubt.

         “Then, I’ll be direct. We have found a stockpile of weapons and supplies that exceeds our needs or ability to transport, and it is in your sector. The base has already been disabled, but will only remain non-functional for a short amount of time. If you are able to mobilize and perform a covert operation, the supplies are yours.”

         “That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” Shiro said, then added after a pause, “Why are you giving these supplies to us?”

         “Way to look a gift horse in the mouth, Shiro,” Matt mumbled under his breath.

         “We were not aiming for supplies in our mission and have no use for the weapons ourselves,” she started. “We thought it would be as good as any a time to introduce ourselves to our fellow Defenders of the Universe.” She said the words so casually, it made Matt feel like he should be stranding up straighter to accept the title.

         “And who are you,” Shiro asked.

         “I am Princess Allura of Altea,” she announced, and this gave them both pause. They’d learned in their time in space that the Alteans were all hunted down and kill, their planet destroyed. That had been the beginning of the The Empire. “We are here and we are going to take down the Galra Empire,” she spoke the words with such cold certainly that Matt felt himself believe it. Never before in all of his time with the resistance had the idea seemed real, until she had said it.

        “I think we should meet and discuss how we can assist you in that,” Shiro said. She nodded, and Matt was felt like something clicked into place. He wasn’t sure what, but this meeting felt destined, not just to give him news of his sister, but because something was going to change. Something big was happening, and ‘Defenders of the Universe’ certainly had a nice ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna start tumbling together real fast now, you guys ready? Cuz I'm ready! I finally am getting towards some of the FIRST SCENES I WROTE FOR THIS DAMN THING. hahaha
> 
>  **Next Chapter** : Allura Makes a decision and nerds fight.


	11. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Star wars or Star Trek? Kirk or Picard? Trick Question, Sisko all the way bb!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right I haven't watched the new season yet. But! This is an AU, so I'm just gonna post this shit anyway!  
> Will aim to post next chapter next weekend if I have enough time to edit between running around.
> 
> Side note, this was probably the first scene I wrote for this story and GODDAMN it feels good to finally get to it! Lmao

        Team Voltron and The Resistance fell into an easy alliance. The fact that, in all of Space, Lance managed to find 2 of the 3 humans known to be outside of the solar system did a lot on that front. Shiro did the rest. He was every bit the amazing leader Lance had dreamt he would be. Here he was, somehow looking even more badass than he had on the pamphlets for The Galaxy Garrison, with his robotic arm and myriad of scars. Lance never new scars could look so cool on someone’s face, but he managed it.

        Ulaz had made himself surprisingly sparse the first few meetings. Lance hadn’t even noticed, he was too busy dishing about ‘Katie’, or catching Shiro up on important details of the conflict and its extended history. Coran helped with this of course. It hadn’t taken many missions for even Allura to trust them enough to tell them about the Lions of Voltron, and her hopes for one day finding paladins to fly them. The resistance seemed as good a place as any to start holding try outs. If they could find pilots, they could turn the war.

        It was during one of these discussions that Ulaz finally showed his face. They were a dozen missions deep into their work together. Matt and Shiro had joined the Altaens and Lance to discuss The Empires most recent activities in sparse sectors.

         “There has been a lot of activity in this area,” Shiro explained, swiping the giant three dimensional map hanging around them in the main deck to point out a region of neutral planets. They had previously been ignored by both sides of the conflict, not being very tactically important locations, nor heavy in resources.

         “How recently did this start,” Allura asked, grimacing. Lance knew why. That was the system that the green lion was tucked away in.

         “Four standard galactic rotations,” Shiro replied. That was almost half a year for Lance. He realized he wasn’t sure how long he’d been in space. He only had vague notions and days blurred when you didn’t have weeks to count off. He decided he’d have to align his timeline with Matt’s. Matt knew things.

        Allura fell into a contemplative silence.

         “Princess…” Coran prompted after a bit too long had passed. Lance knew what she was considering. When she glanced at him, he nodded encouragingly.

         “I need to ask a favor of you,” she said, turning to Shiro and Matt.

         “What can we do?” Shiro replied, unfaltering.

         “I need a covert scouting mission sent to the region to find out more details about why Galra forces are there,” she started.

         “Why are you concerned?” he asked, getting to the real question. Allura met his eyes.

         “There is another Lion of Voltron hidden in that system. I need to know if the Galra are there to find it, or if it is just a coincidence. If they are too close, we will need to make an extraction plan,” she informed.

         “Which planet?” Matt asked, pulling the system closer with a wide swiping question. She told him the planet coordinates and he pulled the details up to view. It was lush looking with Earth-like flora and fauna, and only simple living, sentient slothmen as noteworthy inhabitants. “This place looks nice! Shiro, the temperature will not melt me _or_ freeze limbs off,” he said. “It’s not even-,”

         “Hoth or Mustafa,” Shiro cuts in in a dull voice, “Yes I know, Matt.” This was clearly not the first time the reference had been used.

         “Looks a little more like Risa, to me,” Lance said. Shiro’s eyes slowly closed, his tried expression deepening. Matt’s eyes, on the other hand, brightened.

         “Ooh, the pleasure planet. You filthy trekkie,” he accused, grinning.

         “I just like my sci-fi epics to have a little science in them,” Lance said, shrugging.

         “Oh, please. Don’t pretend that series isn’t riddled with scientific inaccuracies,” Matt argued.

         “It was a revolutionary vision of our future!” Lance said, defiantly propping hands on his hips.

         “Next, you’ll tell me your favorite captain is Kirk,” he replied.

         “He was the ultimate captain and lady’s man!” Lance protested.

         “TOS was nothing but camp,” Matt said. “Now, if you want to talk Next Generation with me…” he offered. Lance had a hand to his chest in an instant, offended.

         “What are they talking about?” Allura asked quietly, standing to the side with Shiro as the conversation raced forward.

         “Fictional characters and which stories were the best,” Shiro said, not seeming surprised at all at the development.

         “Oh… they seem very passionate,” Allura offered, but her smile was forced politeness as they argued over something called ‘Tribbles’.

         “Watch this,” Shiro said, offering a slight, mischievous smile. He cleared his throat and raised his voice, “I don’t know, guys, I thought Voyager was clearly the best.” Both eyes shot to him, and a cacophony of dissent flew out. Allura looked to Shiro, shocked and his smile cracked a little wider. He shrugged.

        He excused himself and Allura from the argument as they got into The Borg and The Dominion. They moved out of the line of fire to speak more seriously about the mission instead. Shiro now asked what would be required if they sent people to protect the Lion.

         “This sounds like an important mission,” Shiro concluded, a contemplative edge to his voice, matched by his furrowed brow. “Things have been quiet on the front, and training generals has gone fairly successfully. I could, if you felt it was necessary, take on this mission myself,” he offered. Allura let out a sudden breath.

         “Thank you,” she said, relief plainly written over her face. “I understand your mission with the Resistance is important, but I would feel much more comfortable not spreading this information outside of this room,” she said.

         “I would be honored, Princess,” Shiro said, nodding respectfully as they neared the door. It slid aside before Shiro’s hand reached the pad. Ulaz stood there, stopping short in the doorway.

         “Ulaz,” Shiro said, sounding just as startled as Ulaz when he replied.

         “Shiro.”

        Allura looked between the two of them. “You two have met?” she asked. She had been informed that Shiro had been rerouted by The Blade to send him to the Resistance, but names hadn’t been given. She also kept tabs on when Ulaz was present or not always. He had yet to be present when Shiro was present.

         “Ulaz was the one who freed me from the Fighting Area,” Shiro supplied. Ulaz flinched slightly at that statement.

         “Not as soon as I should have,” he said. Shiro’s hand went to his arm instinctively, and his smile reappeared after a moment.

         “I have come to terms with the arm,” he said with a light chuckle. “I don’t blame you for that,” he said. Ulaz’s expression remained hard and slightly pained.

         “That one I could not have prevented,” he agreed, his yellow eyes were looking at something higher. Not all of the scars on his face had been from battles there. Shiro’s hand went to his temple.  “That one is because I kept you there. I had an opportunity to let you go sooner. I kept you there,” he stated. Shiro was started by the bluntness of the confession.

         “I understand,” he said, “But you _did_ let me go. Twice, in fact. I haven’t forgotten your trust in me. The least I can do is return it in kind.” He reached out and, after a pause, Ulaz’s clawed hand came out to meet him, slipping past the hand and grasped his forearm. Shiro mimicked the gesture, matching the grip. Silently, they came to a mutual agreement. There was no room for guilt when the fate of the universe hung in balance.

         “Well, I’m glad to see the two of you get along so well,” Allura said, breaking the moment. “Ulaz is the fourth, guest member of our team.” Ulaz bowed his head at the introduction.

         “Princess,” Ulaz said, his voice all business as soon as his eyes broke from the scar on Shiro’s temple. “The Blade has contacted me. They are requesting we meet them to discuss the next tactical move,” he said. Allura looked surprised.

         “And they’re sure things are… safe?” she asked, picking her words delicately to hide harsher ones she would rather use.

         “Kolivan would not contact me if there was any doubt,” he replied. She nodded, having come to at least respect Ulaz’s analytical decision making skills.

        Allura turned to Shiro, “If possible I would like you to start your mission immediately. I want to know what is going on and have eyes on the planet.” She did not clarify any further details in Ulaz’s presence. He nodded.

         “Matt and I will leave immediately,” he promised, looking back over his shoulder. They were shouting about ‘the prequels’. Matt was waxing poetic about his unironic love of ‘pod racing’ and ‘Mace Windu’s purple light saber’. Lance was only repeatedly shouting about the ‘Topher Grace master cut’ being the only acceptable way to experience it. “I think it’s best I break this up anyway,” he said. Allura nodded, looking warily back at them over her shoulders, but most warily at Coran, who looked like he wanted to know more. That would clearly be a very bad idea.

 

        The Blade arrived two days after Shiro and Matt left for the Lion’s location. A small group arrived and conferred first quietly with Ulaz and Lance, but didn’t mince words. Only a few sentences left Kolivan’s mouth before he moved on, striding over to Princess Allura, two blade members in tow, and Ulaz and Lance quickly following after to stand as moderators. Allura had been tense, not pleased about letting more Galra onto her ship.

         “Princess Allura. We require the locations of the remaining Lions. The Green, Yellow, and Black,” he demanded. The Blue was already in the castle, and the Red in Galra hands. Allura stared, bewildered at the demand without even a greeting as preamble.

         “Why in all the quiznaking universe would you think I would tell you that?” She roared back after a shocked pause. The lack of civility squashed any diplomacy she could have otherwise mustered.

         “It is possible that the Empire has means of tracking the Lions. We cannot leave them unguarded,” he informed. “Give us the information and we will collect the Lions.”

         “You will do no such thing!” Allura snapped back, looking taller suddenly. She wore her battle suit rather than her princesses garb. She’d come into this meeting ready for a fight, not a discussion, and Kolivan was providing her with all the reason she needed.

         “We do not have time for emotional responses,” Kolivan started what was sure to be a _very_ unproductive speech. Allura’s eyes were already wide with outrage. “If you will not give us the information, we will take i-,”

         “Whoa whoa whoa!” Lance started forward, hands flying up as he slid in between the Altaen princess and the Galra saboteur.  He threw a comforting smile back at Allura before he reached a hand up to Kolivan’s shoulder to guide him a few steps away. He spoke in a not very conspiratorial whisper, not wanting Allura to think they were plotting.

         “Guys, you can't just take information. We’re here, building trust. We have to prove we’re not the baddies still. Making demands is really not scoring you any points,” he explained.

         “Lance,” his voice was solemn, “this information is time sensitive.”

         “Yeah,” he agreed, “So, let’s talk about this and I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Maybe even get her to help us? Huh? Sounds good, right?”

         “When?” Kolivan asked. Lance was excited. Even if the tone was grim and uninviting, at least he was considering it an option.

         “When you prove you're trustworthy. I mean I'm here Belgiuming for you but you're making it kind of difficult, ya know?” Lance said. He should have known better to use one of his ‘Earth nonsense slang’ words, because Kolivan’s mood soured.

         “We don't have time for a little girl to throw tantrums,” he informed, his voice was ice. Allura couldn’t ignore that. She took a few long striding steps to break up their conversation.

         “Excuse me,” she said, but that was apparently not dramatic enough because she shoved Kolivan around to face her. “Excuse me!?” she repeated with even more outrage rising in her voice. “I'm not throwing a tantrum. I don’t have to trust the vile monsters that destroyed my planet and tracked down and erased my _people_ from the galaxy,” she hissed. “Do you expect me to forgive you for all of that?”

Lance’s voice caught in this throat as a million things to say popped into his head, every one of them wrong. Unfortunately, Kolivan had an answer before Lance did.

         “I expect you to be reasonable enough to understand that, while you might have slept through the last 10,000 years, things have changed in that time,” he said.

         “Oh please,” she snipped back.

         “And,” he continued over her, “Even 10,000 years ago not every Galra supported the genocide of the Altaens.” The phrase shocked Allura into silence. Something seethed behind her eyes, but she did not have the right words to shout yet. Kolivan took that opportunity to go on, though Lance was horrified at what he might say.

         “We expect you recognize that you were not the only people who lost something to this war, and be intelligent enough to know that you have no other option. You might have found one lion and one pilot but without all five it means nothing against the force of The Empire. And I would remind you that this Paladin is not yours.” Kolivan gestured to Lance. “He will do what is necessary to end this war.” The vote of confidence in his loyalty might have touched Lance, if it didn’t undermine the trust he had been building with Allura.

         “Lance might be fooled by you,” she started in a surprisingly shaky voice. “But I've seen you. I've seen what your kind can do,” her words cut short of a quiver.

         “Allura,” Lance said, softly, reaching a hand towards her shoulder, “I know you're scared...”

         “I'm not scared! I'm serious!” she snarled back, slapping the hand off her shoulder. She turned on her heels to head back towards the controls panels. Lance chased after her, thanking the stars Kolivan didn’t think he should follow as well. He hesitated when he caught up.

         “You have a lot of power in your hands and it’s a lot to deal with,” Lance said in a low, serious voice. Just getting the Blue Lion and learning what that really _meant_ had been overwhelming and terrifying to Lance. He’d been terrified and the only way he knew how to deal with it was throw himself headlonged into it. Having the fate of the universe thrown even heavier on her shoulders was a lot to ask of any one person.

         “That doesn't mean I can't make a wise decision,” she replied.

         “I know you can,” he agreed, certainly. “I know you are like a million times smarter than me,” he said and smiled a little at the huff of acknowledgement from her. She didn’t smile, but she was listening. “I know you have a perspective on this I can’t understand, but I’ve seen The Blade of Marmora do good work, do _good_...” He looked at Allura, pleadingly. She was silent a long moment.

         “I know you mean well Lance...” she started finally, but then she reconsidered. She looked from Lance to the tall, purple figures that she had learned to hate and feared since she was far too young. There wasn’t much or her life she had had the luxury of thinking of them as anything except monsters. She turned back to Lance. “I need time,” she said.

        Lance nodded, not arguing. “Just think about it...” Lance requested.

        Allura nodded and left, not stopping to look at the delegation standing in her command room. She walked through without stopping, letting her feet carry her before her thoughts caught up and she realized she was heading to the Holodeck. She needed somewhere to think that felt _right_. Where she could make things how they should be. This was the only place where it could even _smell_ like home.

        Coran was waiting there for her at the door. He’d known where her feet were taking her before she had. She stopped and wished her eyes didn’t burn. She wished she looked like the noble princess Coran had worked so hard to help her become. Instead she felt lost. She felt like a child.

         “I know you have a lot to consider,” Coran said. He was avoiding her eyes. “And I thought you might want to ask your father for advice,” he said. She blinked.

         “Of course,” she said. She felt a swell of something soft in her heart, then tight, then almost angry. She couldn’t understand why he would even bother saying that. It only dug the knife in deeper, reminding her of what the Galra had done. Coran was watching his feet and didn’t see the glare she shot at him.

         “I should have told you sooner, Princess,” he said. He turned to hit a few buttons on the control pad next to the door.

         “Told me what…” Allura said, tensing. She didn’t need any surprises to add to the weight on her shoulders.

         “Your father left a mental imprint with the Castle, along with full imaging capabilities for himself,” he explained.

         “What?” Allura asked, sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, her voice rising with accusation.

         “You were doing so well on your own. You were flourishing. I didn’t want to stunt that growth with… ghosts,” he said, reluctantly. He finally looked at her, “But even as a computer program, Allura, he is good council. I think it might help to talk to him now…” he suggested, softly. Coran punched up button to open the door and stepped aside.

        Allura swallowed and nodded, stepping in. She didn’t have it in her to argue, there was too much already swirling in her head, and the thought of talking to her father was too tempting an offer.

        Something in her heart twisted painfully when the field of flowers sprang up around her. They were so beautiful, and they were gone. The door behind her disappeared and she was in the midst of it. It hadn’t been just the people taken from her, but everything. Knowing that her home was stripped bare and destroyed along with everything else she had known and grown up with hurt so viscerally seeing it again. After talking to Kolivan, some masochistic part of her wanted to see what was gone just to be angry. She wanted his face still in her mind when she saw what had been taken away from her and the galaxy.

        She knew, though, another part of her just needed to walk in the fields she’d grown up in with her father. She found a place, just out of sight of the cottage they’d had there, over the crest of a gentle hill. She sat herself down looking at the created scenery and not being able to pick out a single flaw. The distant mountains and rolling fields looked exactly as she remembered them.

        He started as just a blue ghostly version of himself, but quickly the rest of him filled in to create a replica of her father as flawless as the replica of the ancient fields around her. It was his voice that was the most important, though, and when he spoke he was real.

         “Hello, my daughter.”

        King Alfor, her father, sat down next to her in the fields in full regalia, his armor juxtaposed to the soft petals and light breeze around them. She looked at him for a long moment.

         “Father...” she said, her eyes leaving him for the distant mountains. He was too real to look at for more than a moment. She couldn’t look at him without tears and she had already done her grieving. She had to be done. She was here for answers. “I need to ask you something.”

         “Anything Allura,” he said, his voice matching hers in softness. She wondered if that was part of the programming or if that was just her father in there. She knew he was a hologram. He could only be as much of her father as could be saved in the castle’s computer. That was a lot of him, though. The castle was a magnificent ship. It was not all of him, but it would have to be enough.

         “What were the Galra like before the war?” she asked. She knew there was a time before, but she had been young. She hadn’t had time to know them before, and it hadn’t seemed important after.

         “Valiant,” The program responded without any hesitation. Her thoughts jumped to denial. The program said that, not her father. She suddenly couldn’t believe she’d ever thought this farce could give her true insight into her father’s wisdom. She turned to the program to tell it to end, but her heart stuttered looking at him. He was looking out towards the mountains, his profile strong and his gaze distant, but still certain.

         “How?” she asked, poorly hiding the challenge in her voice. “What made them Valiant? Their strength in battle? Their ability to conquer worlds around them?” she asked, searching for something corroborate her beliefs, a way to twist his compliment. She wanted to trick the program into admitting it; what they were.

         “In battle, yes,” he answered, again without hesitation. She felt triumph rush through her. He reached over to place his hand over hers clenched in her lap. The hand was coarse and warm and solid over hers.

         “Their fierceness in battle that was matched by the strength of their hearts,” he informed.

         “Even before they started their war on the galaxy, they had conquered their whole system,” Allura reminded him.

         “Yes. They conquered with the idea of unity. Their system had been at war for a very long time before the Galra Empire solidified its rule. Their system prospered during their reign, and they respected the needs of their subjects. They respected their neighbors’ sovereignty as well. Of course, that changed...” The holograms face shifted and became sad. “That changed when Zarkon changed. The Galra Empire changed shape with his grief.”

         “I know you were once friends,” Allura said softly, “but how can someone change so completely? He must have had something dark in himself to start, if he could become what he did.”

         “Something did change him,” Alfor said. His hand still laid over hers tightened. “He was no longer the friend and ally I had known for so many years. I cannot explain the thing that took him from me, but I can explain why…”

         “Why?” she asked. “Why what?”

         “Why he let himself become what he is,” he said.

         “Explain then,” Allura said, surprised at her own voice’s sharpness.

         “It was for love,” he said, his words simple and startling.

         “What sort of Love could bring this?” she asked in a harsh tone, feeling her voice choked at the very thought that love could somehow be tainted so deeply.

         “Allura, my daughter…” he started, softly, “I loved you more than anything. I would have chosen you over the Universe,” he said softly. “I did, in the end, chose you over everything else.”

         “What?” she asked, sitting up straight, staring at the hologram of her father.

         “I hid you away,” he said. “I hid you away and I hid the Lions because I thought that maybe I could send you to a future when this had all passed. I knew that if I fought with Voltron and lost, there was no future for you no matter how far I sent you. And I knew that Zarkon was willing to do anything to make me feel the loss that he felt. That meant you,” He squeezed her hand. “I didn’t realize until after you were asleep, that you were what made my decision. I did not think I was giving up the universe so that you could live. But I was.”

         “Father...” Allura said in a shaky voice. She didn't understand what this meant. She didn't want to believe that all of this was her fault. Even more, she didn’t want to hear her father claiming his mistakes were as grave and selfish as Zarkon’s. Her eyes dropped to the hand. It felt so real over hers.

         “You were right,” he said in a serious voice. She's looked up at him and realize that her vision was blurred. Tears welled in her eyes and she tried to blink them away.

         “I was right?” She asked, frowning at him.

         “We should have fought. I knew it at the end. In the last moments the castle was able to capture,” he said, for the first time acknowledging he was a program, a memory of someone dead. “But you knew it from the beginning,” he said with respect in his voice.

        She had heard love and unwavering faith, but this tone was different. This was respect for an equal. She realized that she had never gained that status with they were together. He had always been her father, her king. That was how she had always seen him. In the end, after he had put her to sleep, something had changed. Something between them had changed while she wasn't there to see it. He had seen her as not the princess, but the queen. If she had been awake in that moment, he might have taken her counsel and fought.

        Allura was silent for a long moment. Finally, she requested, quietly, “tell me something else my father would have wanted me to know.”

         “I would have wanted you to know,” he said softly. “That you will be frightened. That you will feel like there is only one answer. You will feel like you are being forced forward and there's only one thing you can do,” he said, and she felt it. She felt the drag of destiny pulling her down a single path. She felt the walls rising ever higher on either side. “I would want you to know that there are options, and that you will know whose council to look to in the end, like I should have looked to yours. You do not stand alone. There will always be those who will come to the call of freedom.”

        It wasn't the words she expected to hear, but she knew in her heart, it was the words that he would have given her. She felt them already in her heart, etched in over the years of fatherly advice. He only had to pull them to the surface.

 

        When Allura left the Holodeck, Lance was waiting for her. He jumped up as soon as he saw her, looking anxious, but he’d put a smile over his face.

         “So, what did your dad have to say?” he asked. Coran must have explained.

         “A lot,” she said, letting out a breath. She started pulling up her hair, twisting it back into the tight bun and Lance watched. He didn’t seem to understand how her mass of hair could be reduced to the tight bun she wore it in.

         “So… thoughts on the Blade?” Lance prodded gently, as she finished.

         “I know they can't ever go back to their own people. They gave up their lives because they believe in this,” Allura started speaking, not sure what her next words would be. She decided to let everything from her conversation with her father flow out of her, and hope it gave her clarity in the end. “Everything they believe in is right here,” she said gesturing wide around her. “This is the hope for what’s left of the Altaens and the Galra. For everyone. They've been risking their lives over and over again and it's not because they couldn’t have lived happily as part of The Galra Empire. It's because it’s the right thing to do…” She trailed off and finally looked back to Lance, who was smiling in earnest now.

         “That’s about what I was planning to tell you. Had some sage advice of my own if you still needed it, buuuut, it looks like you got it,” he said, throwing a light punch at her arm.

         “He also said that people will always look to do good, and that I should consider the council of those I trust, especially when I’m afraid,” she said. She put a hand out towards Lance. “If you trust them…” and she realized she still felt a little flicker of fear. Lance took her hand with both of his, gripping it tightly. “I think we’ll need all the help we can get from people who want to do good,” she decided.

         “With the Rebels, The Blade of Marmora, _and_ Team Voltron, together?” Lance wore a cocksure smile, “We’re going to kick Zarkon’s ass and free the whole damn universe in no time!”

        She was relieved to have allies, to be able to put her trust in someone. She was glad to have these crazy Earthlings to bring the freedom fighters of the universe together. They stitched it all together through strange coincidence and sheer power of will, and she was thankful for that.

         “Okay!” Lance said, pulling a little device Allura didn’t recognize out of his pocket. “We need some good pump up music!” he announced. The little thing flickered to life with a picture of Lance and another human with an arm wrapped over his shoulder. They wore cheesy wide grins. The picture was covered by another screen quickly and a little triangle appeared. “I got one last song, you ready?” he asked. Allura blinked.

         “Ready for what?” she asked.

         “For our pump up music!” he restated.

         “Oh. Yes?” she asked.

         “Okay, no. I asked you, are you ready for some music?” he repeated more forcefully.

         “Yes. Absolutely,” she replied, smiling despite herself at his ridiculous energy.

         “Whoo! Hell yeah you are!” he said, and hit the little screen with his finger. Allura wasn’t sure what to make of the noise that came out of it, tinny and strange. The music was fast and Lance knew every word of it. Before Allura could think better of it, she was joining him, even though she didn’t know any of the words. She matched his energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet in time with the music, bopping and swaying in tune.

        Allura found herself actually laughing. The ritual felt ridiculous, but who was there to judge except Lance, and he was by far more ridiculous. She let herself join in and he cheered her on.

        The music ended sharply and Lance stopped nearly as sharply. Allura glanced down to see his little devices screen empty and black.

         “Oh, is that all?” she asked.

         “Yep,” he replied back, shoving it in his pocket. “Keep that one in your heart, cuz I’m out of jams now, so I’ll be counting on you to acapella that shit with me next time,” he said.

         “Uhm, sure,” she offered, not entirely sure what she’d just agreed to, but she’d deal with the consequences of that later. Lance had clearly shared something with her, and she wanted to return the favor.

         “Come with me,” she said, leading him through the training room to the other side, into the armory. She opened a hidden panel and revealed a set of four handles. She picked one up and shut the panel. She offered it out to Lance.

         “Thanks,” he said, perkily, reaching out for it, “Uh… what is it?” he asked. As he took it, it transformed around his hand. Lance, instead of accepting a handle, found himself with a rifle in hand. “Woah.”

         “This is the Blue Bayard,” Allura explained. “As the Paladin of the Blue Lion, it is your weapon. It changes form to match its user’s need.”

         “That is so badass,” he said, readjusting his grip. The bayard shifted, forming a shorter blaster. He grinned. “Now _this_ could be useful.”

        Allura opened her mouth to praise the quick understanding of the weapon, but was interrupted.

 

         “Lance! Princess!” Coran’s voice boomed over the loud speaker as Kolivan’s came through Lance’s earpiece at the same time ordering him back to the command room.

        The two rushed back across the castle to find Coran and the Blade members discussing something rapidly.

         “What’s happened?” Allura asked, serious. The conversation paused as they all turned to her.

         “The Red Lion has been stolen,” Kolivan explained calmly.

         “What?!” Allura asked.  “The _Red_ lion?” her heart clenched remembering that that lion, her father’s lion, had been in the hands of the Galra, the only Lion that had not been hidden away. Her father had died protecting it and the castle, giving it time to escape. “Who could have possibly have stolen it?”

         “How do you even steal something that big out of the heart of a Galra war ship?” Lance asked.

         “The most realistic extraction method would be if someone were piloting it…” Ulaz theorized. “The details of the report are still sketchy from our sources,” he tagged on.

         “Another Paladin?” Allura asked.

         “The new red Paladin!” Coran shouted excitedly.

         “If someone is piloting the Red Lion, the ship will automatically bring it here,” Allura added, “like the Blue lion did, unless something stops it.”

         “If the Galra know where any of the other Lions are, they will act on it quickly now that The Red Lion has been stolen. They will feel threatened,” Kolivan informed. “We have to act now.” Allura nodded.

         “I already have agents at the Green Lion’s site. I will send word to them that they will have to extract the lion immediately. The Yellow Lion is in a much more heavily Galra controlled area though, it will be harder to retrieve it unnoticed.

         “The Blade of Marmora will protect the lions and castle at all costs,” Kolivan promised. Allura nodded again.

         “Lance, stay with me to defend the castle. We do not know who has the red lion yet and we may need the blue lion here. Kolivan, I need The Blade of Marmora to the Yellow lion’s location. I will be able to make a portal for your fleet if you bring it to the castle. When you have made a distraction, Lance and I will come in to extract the lion.”

         “But… shouldn’t we wait to see if the Red Lion shows up?” Lance asked. “If we have another paladin, they could probably help. And anyone willing to break into an Imperial warship to steal the Lion must be pretty skilled and badass. They must have had an amazing plan. We could probably use expertise like that,” he said.

        “Yes, hopefully we will arrive with additional reinforcements,” she agreed. “Ulaz, I want you to keep in contact with the Resistance fighters. If the Galra make a move on the Green Lion, we will need you to coordinate the lion’s retrieval.” She turned to Coran, “Coran, I need you to get the appropriate information out and keep tabs on things while I prepare with Lance.”

         “Yes, Princess,” came a chorus of replies from the room. Allura nodded and dismissed the group. They all flew into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk tho, any trekkies out there? Because Deep Space Nine was the best season. ~~fight me~~.
> 
>  **Next Chapter preview** : What about our trio on Earth? What are they up to, ya think?


	12. Into Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Earth Trio finally finish all their hard work. They have a plan. They have a date. Now they just gotta launch themselves into the void of space!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to post this chapter the other day but AO3 was freaking out. Seems like it's chilled now and will let me post tho!
> 
> As always, I love hearing your comments and questions and thoughts! You're all so awesome and I'm glad you keep reading and enjoying this fic ♥♥♥

        It was time.

        They had the navigation working. Their supplies were settled. They didn’t know what _all_ the buttons did, but Pidge could almost read the symbols without her translation notes anymore. Keith had picked it up quicker, but he was clearly a freak so Pidge wasn’t surprised. They were all freaks if she was being completely honest. Hunk tried to pretend he wasn’t, but he cooked a cactus and a desert rodent on the hood of a skimmer… and it was delicious. There was no way that was normal.

        Pidge liked them.

        She hadn’t really planned on making any friends while she was infiltrating the Garrison to steal intel to find out what happened to her brother and dad. She’d expected to have to blackmail some officials or possibly plan a prison break from a high security underground super prison. She hadn’t prepared herself for sleepovers and inside jokes.

        These weirdos couldn’t replace her brother, but they reminded her of him occasionally. Keith seemed to just know things inexplicably, and Hunk could fix anything. They were abnormal in the sort of way that made Pidge feel at home. At times it made it easier that Matt was gone, but other times is made it harder. Those were the nights she never left Hunk’s room, or stayed out in the desert drinking energy drinks with Keith until 5 am and fell asleep to the sunrise, curled up on his creaky old, grandpa rocking chair.

        The only people she would have chosen to go into space with instead of her new desert family, was her real one…

        Hunk had managed a white lie that kept himself and his family comfortable enough. It had been a compromise. He admitted he was going into space and it was not a mission he could give any more information on. He adeptly hinted it was related to The Galaxy Garrison, without ever compromising his integrity by lying outright. He’d only told his grandma the truth.

        A phone call and official looking e-mail had let her stay out in the desert with Keith and Hunk for the majority of the summer, but with a new school year and their launch date looming, she had to say something. So, she had Keith drop her off a few towns over, finally getting to one big enough to have a bus stop. She took a series of buses and trains until she was home. She hadn’t come back for any holidays this year. To do that would have meant she’d need a plane ticket, and that meant telling her mom where she really was.

        The guilt weighed on her at the same time she felt relieved to see streets she knew by heart. She didn’t realize she could miss a tree as much as when she saw the one she’d broken her arm falling out of when she was seven. She’d been reading and had dropped her glasses. They landed fine, she didn’t when she dove to catch them. The guilt settled on her as she realized at the same time how much she’d left her mother to, alone. This place was chock full of memories, and she hadn’t even had Pidge to distract her from them.

        She waited until after dinner. She let her mother hug her and fret over her and gasp at her hair. Somehow, they ended up in the bathroom trimming it down. Then they were buzzing the side because if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right, darn it! Her and her mom spent the next five minutes just rubbing the fuzzy sides of her head.

        Pidge was still dusting off hair trimmings when they settled down together. Her mom didn’t even complain about them getting all over. “I needed to vacuum anyway,” she kept assuring. Pidge pulled her legs up on the couch and leaned against her mom. She wondered if it had been a mistake to come back. The house felt so quiet every time they stopped talking. That was, of course, a rare occasion with two or more Holt family members in the same room. But in those few still moments, she imagine her mom there alone. The house quiet. She didn’t know if she could leave her.

         “So, what are you not telling me?” she said. Pidge frozen against her mom. “Sweetie,” she said, pulling her closer into her, squeezing. She smelled like the warm dusty smell of well-worn tech, the processer running a bit too hot because you’re running a program too intense for the poor little thing to handle. She loved it. It smelled so mom.

         “I found an alien space pod and I’m going after Matt and Dad,” she said. Her mom was silent, her hand stilling then pulling away from her head. She started sitting up and Pidge reluctantly sat up as well. She didn’t look at her mom still.

         “Explain that one more time for me,” she said. It was gentle, but still a demand. Pidge sighed, and then started in to it. She explained that she wasn’t really at Barton’s Prep, they were briefly sidetracked with the technical details of how she forged, hacked, and photoshoped her lies into reality. The tone shifted with Lance’s disappearance. It had been painted like he’d run off in the news. Then she went into was hunting down Keith with Hunk, the ancient space ships, and the work they’d done.

        “You’ve put a lot of hard work into this… but it might be time to give this information to people who could send more help than one ship full of teenagers running off into space, baby,” Pidge’s mom offered softly.

        “Give it to who?” Pidge asked, pulling her feet up to her chest and leaning back to the other side of the couch. She felt defensive. “The people who sent them out there are the same people that didn’t tell us about the transmissions still coming. They’re the ones that told us they were dead. They’re not, mom. At least, they weren’t when they gave up on them,” she said, stubbornly. Her mother was silent.

        “I can’t let you shoot yourself out into space… That’s just not good parenting,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, but her smile was too strained.

         “They’re not just some random teenagers,” Pidge protested.

         “They’re still kids. There are people with a lot more training to handle these things,” she said, reaching over. Pidge grabbed her hand before it got to her knee and squeezed it, shifting to grab it with both hands.

         “There’s no one else who knows this ship better than we do. Hunk is the only person who can repair it on the fly if need be. Not even Professor Montgomery is better at abnormal, in-flight repair simulations than Hunk. That’s documented in the Garrison archives and I _will_ hack in to prove it if you want. And Keith is like, freaky attuned to all this stuff. He found these things just wandering around in the desert before we even _got_ the radar going. Plus, I think he could kill a man with his bare hands,” she said, loosening her grip on her mom’s hands. “So, I’ll be safe if we run into scary aliens…”

         “Pidge…” her mother said, warningly.

         “I know this sounds ridiculous. I know you’re worried. I have to, though. _We_ have to. And we have to go soon,” she couldn’t explain that last part. None of the trio had said it, but in the last few weeks they’d felt a pressure building. It could just be their summer coming to an end, and Hunk having to officially turn down his dream school, and Keith starting to be able to really read the snippits of intel logged on the escape pod. They were all getting jittery. Something was happening. Something had to happen to.

         “I can’t let you go,” she said, sternly. She wasn’t the sort of mom who said no. When Matt had wanted a dirt bike when he was 11, she said he could have it when he finished building it, and they spent the summer putting one together from scratch. When Pidge was little and wanted to launch a rocket, she had to first learn all the math involved with planning a proper launch and landing. The answer was never ‘no’, it was ‘when you understand what you’re asking for’.

         “I’m going. I don’t want to have to do it by sneaking out a window in the middle of the night, or picking a lock,” Pidge said, swallowing down her nerves. She stared down her mother until she felt her gut twist in guilt. Her mother looked so… sad. She let her eyes fall and fished around in her pocket.

         “This is everything we have. Just look at it and tell me anyone else can do this, that you could _trust_ anyone else to…” he handed over a datastick, pressing it into her mom’s hands. She took it but her brow held a deep crease. She didn’t look like she was ready to rethink her position.

         “Mom,” Pidge started her last ditch effort. “What did you do when you were 14?” Her mom opened her mouth to protest, but Pidge just repeated, “Mom.”

         “I created a new identity, forged all the paperwork, moved to a new state, got an apartment-,” she started listing, her eyes speaking to how much she regretted telling this story to her daughter now.

         “Above a bar," Pidge interjected.

         “Above a bar,” she agreed, “So I could start going to College as Petunia Pettit.”

         “Pidge Gunderson was a much better cover name,” Pidge noted, “And you were planning to just _live_ with that mess of an alliteration. Get your college degree and start your life as _Petunia_.” She made a face.

         “Well, your father like it just fine,” her mom argued.

         “He was a nerd who came with his dad to work after school for an excuse to read college level biology books for free. I can’t imagine he was hard to impress,” Pidge said,  
“Dad does _not_ count as an adequate coolness measuring tool.”

         “You were almost Petunia,” she reminded. “And I was very cool,” she tagged on.

         “Of course, you were mom,” Pidge said, mockingly, but it was for show. Her mom _was_ cool. She just couldn’t admit something like that, though.

         “Space is a little further than the next state over, sweetie...” she reminded.

         “I know, but it’s where Matt and Dad are…” Pidge said, softly.

         “I know.” She sighed and stuffed the datastick in her pocket. “Let’s get to bed. It’s late,” she said, glancing towards the clock. Pidge agreed, a bit warily, heading to her old room.

 

        Pidge woke up wondering if she’d have to climb the tree next to her window to get out. She found her clothes washed and neatly folded into a duffle bag instead.

        Her mom was still holding the datastick when they met downstairs. Her thumb was running over it nervously, even as she finished plating breakfast.

        She kissed her daughter on the forehead and laid a plate of eggs and toast and a bagel and oatmeal and orange slices and sausage AND bacon, out in front of her. She wasn’t leaving anything out.

         “I guess it’s my own fault for having such brilliant, talented, wonderful children,” she said, laying the food out in front of Pidge when she sat down. A finger shot out suddenly at her, hovering just in front of her nose. “Remember the halfway point for food means turn back. We can try again if you come home. I can even help if you waited,” she said.

        They both know Pidge wasn’t waiting. There was a reason this was all happening now. Or if there wasn’t a reason, there was a warning in everything that was happening. Someone took everyone on the Kerberos mission. Someone took Lance.  Something was coming. Pidge had never gotten those transmissions out of her head from nearly a year ago. The same night Lance had disappeared. “Voltron.” The universe was alive out there, and it was talking about ‘Voltron’. Pidge was damn sure she was going to find out what it was.

         “I’ll be safe,” Pidge promised. “I’ll come back and so will Matt and Dad. I promise.”

         “I’m driving you back out there,” her mom announced. “I saw your father and brother off, and I’m see you off too,” she said firmly. Pidge grinned and nodded. One last Holt family road trip before blasting off into space felt right.

 

 

         “You… are sure you want to come?”

        The question broke the silence of the evening. Hunk and Keith were sitting on the edge of the porch, neither of them using the rickety old rocking chair even though Pidge wasn’t there to claim like usual. It was slowly chilling from the days heat, the stars coming out one by one. It seemed like they always had their heart to hearts at sunset. Hunk could already feel the seriousness in Keith’s tone. He looked over.

         “Of course,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

         “I mean… Pidge is searching for their family. I’m searching for, Shiro and answers. I have nothing keeping me here,” he explained, then looked from the slowly fading light of the day to Hunk. “I mean… does Lance really mean that much to you?” he asked. Hunk was quiet for a moment.

         “He’s my best friend, Keith,” Hunk said, not knowing how else to explain it. He didn’t have better words for what Lance was. “If he wasn’t worth launching myself into space for, I wouldn’t have even gotten this deep into this whole mess,” was what he could say. What he didn’t say was how much he loved Lance’s mom as well. How he still called her even after all these month. How she insisted on still sending the care packages she used to send to Lance, but had always been for the both of them.

        He also didn’t say that, after almost a year with Pidge and Keith by his side constantly, he wouldn’t let either of them go into danger without him. He wasn’t going in to space just to save Lance, he was doing it to protect his new friends as well. It sounded too cheesy to say, so instead he just said, “And who the hell else is gonna fix our hunk of junk here when it inevitably starts breaking down, if I’m not around to save you guys?” He laughed, looking to the ancient craft they were trusting their lives to in a matter of hours.

         “You’re right. We need you Hunk,” he agreed, reaching a hand out and patting Hunk’s forearm. Hunk looked over, surprised at how soft Keith’s smile was. “I wouldn’t want to do this without you. I just…” He pulled his hand back, knitting his fingers together. “I didn’t want to drag you into my problems. Pidge was gonna launch themself into space one way or another. You could just have a normal life though,” he said.

         “How could I go from this,” he gestured wide around him, to the shack, the ship, the makeshift launch preparations, to Keith and where Pidge would have been, “to a normal life?” he asked. Keith actually laughed.

         “All right, I suppose,” he admitted.

         “How could I go to college and just know in the back of my head, ‘oh yeah and then Keith and Pidge just launched themselves into space without me’,” he said in a goofy voice. Keith snorted.

         “Fair!” he said louder. “Okay, you’re going. I get it!” he said with fake exasperation.

         “I’m going,” he agreed, solidly, nodding. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted.”

         “I don’t. I’m glad,” he said. It felt genuine. Everything admittedly felt genuine from Keith. He was too straight forward to lie. The closest he got was when he just didn’t use his words, and no one knew what was going on in his head then.

         “Wanna know what my grandma said when I told her?” Hunk asked.

         “Yeah,” Keith said, without hesitation.

         “Okay, to start, she’s like 122, so I think she was alive before the internet or something,” Hunks started. Keith laughed. “So… I said I was going to space, and she just nodded and waited quietly until I broke. Grangran is cruel. She just stared me down,” he announced, throwing his hands up. “Anyway, I told her everything. I guess I wanted to tell _someone_ everything and Grangran isn’t a snitch.”

         “Snitches get stitches,” Keith muttered mindlessly.

         “You and my Grangran, Keith, would get along, because she said those exact words to me when I told her not to tell,” Hunk half shouted. Keith smiled, not at Hunk, but just to himself, seeming pleased to have the sensibilities of an old coot born before the turn of the millennia. “Anyway, so I told her and she says, I swear to god, ‘well finally someone is going to get me some of that dank space weed’.”

        Keith sputtered. “What?” he asked, his voice rising. His eyes were wide and his mouth stuck between awe and shock.

         “Yeah! My grandmother is a dead ass stoner, turns out. She said she wants to ‘tap some alien ass’ before she dies too.” Hunk turned to Keith, “Keith. I died on the inside.”

         “Can your grandma adopt me?” Keith asked, looking dead serious.

         “You’re an adult, legally,” he reminded.

         “No, I know, I just need her to leave me all her dank space weed in the will,” Keith said. Hunk chocked. It wasn’t that Keith never told jokes, but it always caught him off guard.

         “Dank,” he repeated, “What does that even mean?”

         “I have no idea, but it’s gotta be good if Grangran uses it. Only the best when you’re that old, right?” Keith asked.

         “Right,” Hunk said, with a chuckle.

        They settled into a pleasant silence as they waited.

 

        The headlights rolling towards them would have certainly made Keith nervous, and even Hunk at this point, if Pidge hadn’t thought to send them a warning text that he was coming in directly there by car. Hunk wasn’t sure if that meant he was stealing one, or what, but he didn’t question Pidge anymore. The little car that rolled into the floodlights didn’t look like it should have been able to make it this far out into the desert. It was dainty looking. Out of it stepped the most classic looking house wife, right down to the mom jeans. Out of the other side leapt Pidge with a newly buzzed head and a scraggly, curly fauxhawk on top.

         “Hey guys! This is my mom!” he announced.

         “Hello, I’m Mrs. Holt,” she introduced. She walked over and took each of their hands. Hunk was shocked at how firm her handshake was, and she smile at both of them. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter,” she added so casually that it make Pidge spinning back around comically intense.

        Keith just nodded and Hunk said, “Of course.”

         “Right… you guys knew I was related to Matt and dad…” Pidge said, as if just realizing that a few quick googles would get all the necessary information.

         “Katie, you said you’d told them everything,” Mrs. Holt said.

         “I did! Just not… I guess I didn’t-! Look-,” Pidge scrambled.

         “It’s cool,” Keith said.

         “Yeah, I just figured it’s what you wanted,” Hunk agreed, though his voice tipped up a little in the end. He shrugged to play it off nonchalantly. He’d sort of been guessing, but who was he to judge someone’s identity. “Pidge still?” he asked.

         “Yeah… yeah Pidge still,” they said, smiling. Keith and Hunk nodded. She looked relieved, and Hunk was glad she wasn’t worrying about it. One less thing to worry about when launching into space.

         “She?” Hunk added, after a moment’s thought.

         “Oh, yeah I guess,” Pidge said, but sounded less sure. A shrug followed.

         “A’right, well tell us if that needs updating,” Keith said, so casually, that Pidge seemed to relax and nodded. The weight of everything not piled onto one moment, she could move again.

         “For sure,” she agreed.

        Pidge’s mom had wandered off to survey the site they had set up for the launch during the exchange, either unsurprised or unworried about the conversation. “This is the ship?” she asked. Pidge rushed over to confirm and give a quick tour of everything. Mrs. Holt seemed to know all the right questions to ask to keep Pidge chattering away, leaving Keith and Hunk to finish up the arrangements.

        By the time Pidge and her mom finished the tour, the launch site was ready to go and Hunk was just doing the finishing touches.

         “You ready Pidge? Everything a go on your side?” Hunk asked.

         “Yeah! Well…” Pidge looked to her mom.

         “You need someone doing interference for you, if you’re trying to launch this close to a military base, particularly after multiple UFO sightings in the past year,” Mrs. Holt said, pragmatically. “And someone to do cleanup will help keep anyone off your tail. Though, it sounds like this ship has a bit of a kick to it. You might be out of range too quickly for them to do too much,” she said patting the hull.

         “Mom, you know you’ll get arrested if they catch you doing this,” Pidge reminded.

         “Oh, sweetie…” she said softly, turning to her daughter. “That’s only if they can catch me.” Hunk and Keith blinked, exchanging looks. They certainly shouldn’t have expected any less from Pidge’s mom than some sort of anti-government hacker.

         “I like your mom,” Keith noted.

         “Yeah, she’s a badass,” Hunk added, though he felt sheepish a moment later for the swear. She still looked so _mom_ he felt like he’d be scolded.

         “Hell yeah she is,” Pidge agreed with a grin.

        Mrs. Holt smiled at the two boys and called them over while Pidge disappeared into the little desert shack to do a last sweep and change into one of the spacesuits they’d stolen from the Garrison before leaving.

         “I want to wish you all the best of luck,” she said, “And to make sure you know, if anything happens to my little girl while you all are up there, you’d better hope they have me in a high security prison because otherwise the cold void of space will not save you.” Her words were so casually that both Hunk and Keith straightened with a shiver.

         “Y-Yes ma’am,” they both managed to stammer. She smiled, patted both of their shoulders.

         “So, everything’s set. You ready?” she asked, looking past Hunk and Keith to her daughter reemerging, dressed and ready.

         “Everything is set,” Pidge agreed. There was a pause and then it broke. Pidge rushed forward, shoving between Keith and Hunk to be caught up in her mom’s arms. She leaned over and kissed the top of Pidge’s head.

         “You stay safe,” she muttered. “And you come back.”

         “I will. We all will. I’ll bring everyone home,” Pidge promised, a muffled sound into their mother, mouth barely uncovered enough to be heard. There was a quiet moment, then they were apart, both wiping their eyes clean.

         “All right,” Mrs. Holt said.

         “All right,” Pidge agreed.

         “Oh! I can’t!” Hunk suddenly announced. Before anyone could protest Hunk’s arms were scooping Keith up along with everyone else, smashing them together in a tight hug. He sniffled into Keith’s ear, clearly emotional about the scene too. Keith let himself be squashed as Mrs. Holt freed her hands enough to hug back and chuckle.

        When they parted, Mrs. Holt got down to business. Pidge handed over the laptop and her mom leaned in, a hunch reminiscent of Pidge’s. She gave a thumbs up after a few moments and Pidge led them to the ship.

        They’d practiced for this moment. They’d done drills the month leading up to it. They were ready. They had to be. None of them couldn’t wait another day to get into space. He looked to Pidge, determined, and then Keith, who was looking up at the sky, like the stars were waiting for them. He moved like they were screaming for them to finally get up there. There was that glint in his eye and for the first time, Hunk felt it too. He felt it for real.

        He was ready. He was coming. He’d be there soon.

 

        The launch was a success, over all. Hunk only puked once, and there were only three life threatening repairs to do once they had gotten out of the atmosphere. Over all Keith thought they’d had a successful first minute and twenty seconds in space. Hunk already looked done with the day, but Keith felt energized.

         “I’m setting our course. We start by tracing back the escape pod’s course and we’ll start looking for signals from there,” Keith said, pulling up the navigation. Pidge had barely sat back down before Keith had them on their way. The control panels felt strange under his hands, but the system felt intuitive.

         “Kerberos should be in our path, I think we should stop there first. If we’re moving—Holy shit, look at how fast we’re going. Hunk!” Pidge exclaimed, excited gesturing for Hunk to come up to the main screen.

         “Uhg, Pidge I just finished-oh shit,” Hunk cut himself off, going from a plodding walk to a hopping skip as he noticed their progress on the screen. “How are-this is faster than I calculated. We have to be-this shouldn’t be-what the hell are in those crystals?” he asked, finally settling on a thought.

         “I don’t know but I like them,” Pidge said, grinning.

        Keith was silent. He was impressed with their speed too, but he didn’t feel like discussing it. He still had to wait. He stood up.

         “Hunk is taking the first rotation. I’m going to sleep,” he said. They both stared at him as if they hadn’t agreed to the rotation schedule to keep someone awake at all times.

         “Keith, we’re in space,” Hunk said.

         “We’ll be in space when I wake up too,” Keith said.

         “Unless Hunk crashes up into something,” Pidge noted. Hunk looked offended.

         “Then don’t crash us into anything,” Keith said to Hunk.

         “Aye aye, captain,” Hunk said, rolling his eyes and taking Keith’s chair at the control panels.

        Keith set an alarm and headed towards the small sleeping quarters on the ship. It was not meant to house three people for extended travel. There was only one bed and they had added a makeshift, pulldown top bunk. It was stress tested for Hunk, but they had all decided that Pidge was the preferable occupant if they had to have two people sleeping at any one time.

        The ship might have been meant for only one long-term occupant, but the thrusters suggested that it wasn’t just for close range transport. Someone had traveled long distances in this ship, lived in it. They’d found remnants of the occupant while they were gutting the interior to add enough seats. A cord still hung, tacked up but whatever hung from it was lost to the ages. A box of musty uniforms and ancient cutlery was removed to make room for their own supplies. There was a whole section on the old system dedicated to a wide variety of corrupted ‘personal’ files. The destruction must have been intentional when the alien had arrived. Keith thought about that a lot. He didn’t think any of the aliens that came with the ancient ships they had found had left. They got here and destroyed all hopes of leaving and all their memories. Then they died.

        Keith stared at the bunked pulled down above him. That’s how he had felt, just a little bit, his whole life. Stranded. Except he hadn’t chosen whatever mission left him an orphan in a small rural town in Texas. He didn’t know what grand cause left him with his past burned before he’d had a chance to even understand it.

        He considered putting the bunk bed up, so he could sit up, but decided he’d rather be forced to stay laying down. He breathed deep and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why space had always felt like the only option. Things just always seemed to drag him towards it, towards the Garrison, towards the desert, towards the Lion and these ships. It was all pulling him off the Earth towards something. His destiny was narrowing, even if he didn’t know where it was leading, yet. There was a clearer and clearer path as other options were slowly closed off. He had to keep following it.

 

        Keith’s turn at the helm left him alone. Pidge and Hunk had both stayed up the whole first two shifts and were exhausted by the time Keith came to relieve Pidge. He was fine with that. He still wanted quiet.

        He settled into the chair, tugging his feet up onto the seat with him. He cleared the screen of everything but the view and finally took his first serious look at space. They were well on their way to Kerberos. It should have been months of travel, but this ship was something unlike anything they had on Earth. And it was thousands of years old, if they were right. Hunk and Pidge had spent many sleepless excited nights discussing what that meant about the technology that might be out there now. It was interesting to hear the theorize, even when most of the technical parts went over Keith’s head.

        After some time, Keith pulled the computer onto the screen again and started rifling through the options. He was just mindlessly shuffling around, not searching for anything in particular. He just had to keep himself occupied, his hands doing something in the silence. He stopped suddenly. He went back an option, something catching his eye.

         “Return to ship,” he muttered to himself, clicking on the symbol. He watched the screen as the ship changed coarse slightly away from Kerberos. He tapped his fingers lightly over the council, thinking, then sat back.

 

         “What did you do?” Pidge asked, only minutes after groggily shuffling forward to take the second seat at the helm. She’d noticed the change in course quickly.

         “We’re going back to the ship that the pod ejected from,” Keith said, casually.

         “No, we’re going to Kerberos,” Pidge snipped back.

         “We can go to Kerberos later,” he replied, putting an arm out to block Pidge, when she launched herself at the controls. She was stronger than she looked, but Keith kept her at bay.

         “I need answers,” Keith informed.

         “So do I!” Pidge shot back, “About my family!”

         “We’re already off course. It would take us just as long to get to the ship as it would to get to Kerberos,” he informed. Pidge’s weight let up on his arm as she sat back.

         “So, you just decided your thing was more important?” she asked, her expression hard.

         “Who would launch an escape pod towards Earth other than someone trying to get back to Earth?” Keith asked. “It’s our best bet for answers for both of us.” Pidge’s expression lightened, but it was clear she was still unhappy with the lack of communication.

         “And if everyone at the Kerberos mission was abducted like Lance, and the little green aliens aren’t so friendly?” Pidge asked.

         “Then we’ll be sneaky,” Keith offered. Pidge took an angry bite of her nutrition bar.

         “You better hope this works,” Pidge grumbled, accepting the new plan of action.

        They decided to shorten their shifts after one more round, to make sure they were all rested by their planned arrival time. Hunk hadn’t been as hard to convince as Pidge, but a shorter shift helped sell the idea.

 

        When they got close to the return point, the whole crew was up, ready, and nervous. The scanners showed not just a single ship, but a whole fleet coming into their far scanner range. Keith noted the flight patterns looked military. Pidge and Hunk quickly agreed. There was discussion of turning back, starting at Kerberos and seeing what they could learn. They were already _here,_ though.

         “Turn off all non-essential devices,” Keith said, suddenly, cutting off the discussion. He settled into the pilot’s position, bumping Hunk out of the seat. He pulled up the manual controls. “We’ll take her in dark and with only thrusters. This ship is ancient technology. They probably aren’t looking for it. We might get past their radars if we look like space debris on their scanners.”

         “That sounds risky. Can’t we just turn around and-,” Hunk started.

         “No. If they have my dad and brother, we’re going in,” Pidge said, apparently only needed a little push to keep with the plan. Pidge went to follow orders and Hunk, with a slight groan, accepted he was outvoted.

        The fleet came into plain view, all their scanners and radar shut off. The giant ship loomed into view long before the little specks of the rows of smaller ships. The dark sharp points of the little crafts, the movement of them all swarming around the large sleek mothership, everything screamed dangerous. Keith flew them in by sight alone, and the ominous presence quieted the crew aboard the little ship.

        The process of gliding the ship in wasn’t as hard as Keith had expected. Between Pidge giving them blips of radar to make sure they hadn’t been detected, and Hunk determining the patrolling pattern, Keith was able to guide them right up to the large craft in the center. He found the edge of an open docking bay and latched just out of view of the ships coming in and out.

        They fell into complete silence, waiting to see if they had been wrong, and they had been detected on the way over. Nothing seemed to notice they were there at all. They weren’t hailed, boarded, or blasted right off the side of the ship. Keith stood up.

         “I’m going in,” he said. He started getting a space suit on, grabbing his helmet.

         “What? You’re just gonna jet over there through space? Have you ever even DONE that?” Hunk asked.

         “Yes and Nope,” Keith replied nonchalantly.

         “I’m coming with you!” Pidge said, scampering towards her own space suit before Hunk could argue more.

         “You should stay and-,” Keith stopped before he even finished. Pidge’s glare was leveled at him. “Fine. I’ll run a line, and then you can follow with a guide.” Pidge nodded, pleased, and Hunk sighed and stood up, starting to get his space suit on as well. He was starting to accept the fate he’d chosen when he’d agreed to go into space with Pidge and Keith.

        They made it the distance from their small ship to the gaping opening of the docking bay with little trouble. Though Hunk guided himself along the line Keith set up extremely carefully, taking no risks. The docking bay was for large transports, which let the three small figures slip in unnoticed. Keith led them covertly behind cover and Pidge, being Pidge, found a control panel and started to hack into the ship.

         “Yeah this is definitely a military complex,” Pidge whispered, pulling up confidential files and floor plans in seconds. Keith watched the information flash by on the little control panel. Hunk was too busy nervously glancing around and fidgeting.

         “They have prisoners,” she announced suddenly, just loud enough to have Hunk spin and hush them. She ignored him. “If someone was trying to get to Earth from this ship, and failed to get into the escape pod, I’d say it’s a safe bet they would be locked up,” she said.

        Keith nodded. “Get us a route.” Pidge was pulling up a map when Keith noticed something strange. He tapped on the screen, “What’s that?” he asked. It was another docking bay, but it had a lot of extra energy allocated to it.

         “Hmm,” Pidge paused to investigate, but this time her hacking didn’t seem to be getting her anywhere fast. She began to bristle with irritation as it declined her access over and over with an angry little buzz. “This is bullshit,” she growled at the control panel.

         “It’s important. I’m going to go find out what it is,” Keith decided, suddenly. “You and Hunk check out the prisoner sector and look for the Kerberos Team. We’ll meet back up in thirty minutes and regroup. Keep a low profile, this will just be an exploratory run through. If anyone from the Kerberos team is there, we meet back up to discuss how to get them out.”

        Pidge and Hunk nodded and the team split up, sneaking across the docking bay to separate sides of the hall. Keith slipped into his hall and started at a jog, dodging silently to the side whenever he heard footsteps nearing. He was making good time, but as he kept moving and dodging to the side, he realized he lost count of the exact number of turns he’d made.

         “Shit,” he mumbled, standing at an intersection, both sides looking the same. “Okay… okay which way?” he asked himself. He glanced from one side to the other before giving up and picking one on instinct. It was all he had to go on, so it would have to do.

        He felt like he’d made the right choice was he ran into twice the number of guard patrols, and then the number doubled again. He finally peaked around a corner to see 4 sentries standing outside a single door, not patrolling, just standing right there. Keith watched and waited. He didn’t have any weapons, and each sentry looked to have a gun of some sort, that and a good foot on him. Getting in wouldn’t be easy. He’d need a distraction.

        As if in queue, the hallways suddenly lit up with flashing lights, alarms going off all around him. The guards started to move all at once. Keith didn’t hesitate. When a sentry rushed past him, he grabbed him and pulled him around the corner, disarming him with a twist of the arm. He was about to go to knock the guard out when he realized this wasn’t an alien at all. A mechanical face turned to him. He swung the robotic soldier around and into the wall, deactivating it before it could send out any warnings about him. He picked up the weapon he’d stolen and looked back to the door.

        Only one remained behind from the alarm. Keith hoped it wasn’t Hunk and Pidge that were getting all this attention, but there wasn’t much he could do if it was. He might as well see what was behind the mystery door while he had the chance. The mystery door felt like everything else he’d been chasing, like he was being drawn there.

        Keith rounded the corner and shot, the robotic guard remaining going down easily in a spray of shots. He grabbed its arm to press the limp hand to the door panel. It opened. He ducked back behind the side of the door frame and peaked around. No guards inside that he could see. He slipped in and then he saw it.

        It was just like the one on Earth, the one Lance had gotten to before him, except it was red. The giant robotic lion sat majestically there, a blue, hazy sphere around it, giving it an almost mystical glow. He looked around, then hesitantly moved toward it. He reached up to the blue haze and his hand stopped on the force field.

         “So, there’s more of you?” he asked quietly. He stared at it, pressing his hand a little harder against the shield to see if it would yeild. “And I missed the blue one, so now I’m here. Are you what I’m supposed to find?” he asked. He didn’t know. For all the destiny and dragging around the universe did to him, he didn’t know, now, standing in front of the big red lion thing, if this was it. He didn’t know if this had anything to do with his destiny. He just stared and the giant lion stared back.

        He glanced down for the time. He had to start heading back. Leaving the lion here felt wrong. He wasn’t sure if he’d get another chance like this to break in. He looked back towards the door just in time to see the sentries returning. He leapt behind a set of cargo boxes for cover as a volley of shots flew at him.

         “Shit.”

        He managed to get a few good shots in their general direction, but he’d never been great with a gun. His hand to hand training was where he had excelled. He ducked back behind the crates, peaking around fire periodically to keep the guards at a bay. He wondered if he could get in close enough being shot at to take them on with his knife.

        Something stirred behind him. His head shot around and up to the Red Lion. It was stark still, but it seemed like it was looking a little to the left now. He glanced to the left and noticed a guard was getting close, trying to round the boxes to the left. He had broken away from the rest, though, and that was good enough for Keith.

        He darted towards the boxes where the lone sentry was and leapt at him, ducking in under his gun to land a solid blow. He whipped out the old dagger he’d brought with him from Earth, handle still wound up with the cheap cloth tape peeling at the edges. It sliced through the robot like it did everything else, with unreal sharpness. He ducked back under his new cover as shots fired at him again. He glanced back at the Lion and this time he was sure it had moved. It was on all fours instead of sitting, now.

        Keith felt like he was being watched. That could have just been the guards rounding in on him on both sides now. He cursed and looked around, not sure what to do, until he spotted the docking controls next to a large door in the floor. He’d always liked Alien. It’d been a good franchise. This would definitely work. He was running out of options anyway. He grabbed the helmet from where it attached on his back and pulled it over his head.

        Keith rushed forward, dodging shots as he went until he reached the controls. Without a second thought, because he didn’t have time so far from any cover, he slammed open the door and braced himself. Instantly the vacuum of space did its thing. The sentries rushing towards him went easily. Then the sentries who had stood back slid towards the opening as well. Unfortunately for Keith, so did a number of crates. One large one slide right for him. Before he could slam the doors back shut, it smashed into him, sending him tumbling out into space.

        He flew out with the guards, helplessly clutching the control tower that had cracked off with him. He tried to use the small jets on his suit, but found the collision only left one side working. It sputtered to life asymmetrically, spinning him head over heels in a slow rotation. His world rotated around him, and suddenly Hunk’s fear of the little trip from the ship to the docking bay didn’t seem so crazy. He could feel his heartrate pick up as he tried to search for something to grab onto. The opening came in and out of view as he moved, every rotation revealing he was further and further out. Crates floated uselessly around him. Nothing to grab. He was drifting towards nothing. His breathing became uneven and he shut his eyes tight, trying to calm down. Trying to think.

        Something roared.

        Keith’s eyes shot open and he wasn’t sure if the roar had been real, or just echoed through his head. He didn’t have long to think about it before he finished his spin to see an open, gaping mouth rushing towards him.

        Then he was on all fours, artificial gravity throwing him down as the mouth closed around him. He tore the helmet off without think, taking a deep breath of relief, only afterwards thanking all that was good that there _was_ air around him. He stumbled up onto his feet and looked around. He followed the clearest path forward and found the door to a cockpit opening for him.

         “Okay, Space Lion,” he said, setting his helmet to the side and sitting down. The console lit up all around him as his seat was pulled into the proper position. His hands touched the controls and for a second he thought all the lights went out, but in the darkness, streaks of light flew through his vision, like the blue that had trailed behind the Blue Lion on Earth. This time the red line was bright and vivid. Five of these lions were coming together to make… something.

        The vision vanished as his attention was pulled back to reality.

         “Keith!” A voice cried, muffle and tinny from his helmet. He flipped it over so the opening was facing up. “Keeeeith buddy! Where are you?” Hunk’s panicked voice asked. “We gotta gogogogogo! We did a prison break! It wasn’t my idea, but we have bunch of aliens and we’re getting shot at and Pidge has a pet robot and—oh god are we all going to fit in the ship? How many people can we get into the ship! Keith, we didn’t think this through!” Hunk was rambling, the sound of blasters sounding off in the background.

         “Get everyone to the ship and just get them on, I have-,” Keith stopped short as he realized that the ship wasn’t turning around on his command. He growled and turned back to the helmet, “Just get everyone to the ship, I’ll get us out of here,” he said, stubbornly before he ended his communication.

         “Hey!” he snarled, as the lion flew forward, instead of taking his commands into consideration. “HEY!” he shouted louder. “My friends are back there, you stupid cat, and we have to get them!” There was still no response. “If you could just fly yourself, why did you even pick me up, huh? Just spit me back out into space then,” he demanded, standing up. He wasn’t sure why he was talking to a ship, let alone threatening to storm out. “Because I’m not leaving without my friends.” He announced. He glared down at the controls.

        The Lion stopped. Smaller ships were starting to burst out of the main one. Things were getting messy and only going to get worse the longer he waited. Keith threw himself back in the seat as Pidge came in from his helmet.

        They’re going to spot us and blow us into space dust in a second here!” Pidge shouted over the din of voices behind her.

         “I’m coming. Stay put,” he said, and grabbing the controls. He felt a swell of relief when the lion roared and turned at his command. He shot forward, rounding the ship at a shocking speed. He felt a rush at the grace of the ship, moving with all the fierceness of a predator. He twisted out of laser volleys and blasted past little fighters trying to catch him. He grinned as he neared the docking bay they had clung their ship next to. His hands flew over the controls, looking for a tractor beam, or something to just grab the little ship with. The lion provided, the option to open cargo compartment showed up. He punched it open and shouted to Pidge. “Detach! I’m the big lion coming right as you. Get in and I’ll get us out of here!”

         “You’re the what?!” came the confused reply, but as he neared, the little ship was waiting for him. He slowed enough for the ship to land, poorly, inside. Keith slammed the door shut behind it and shot the lion forward. “Alright, Red! We’re good, let’s get out of here,” he announced, feeling almost gleeful at the success.

        The lion burst forward, outpacing the little ships that chased them. When they’d cleared the main fleet, a little distance between them and the last ship, the void of space in front of them suddenly became not so empty. A glowing blue glyph appeared. The Lion roared again and flew itself right into it. Keith braced himself, unsure what they were crashing into.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO I'm excited I finally got the Earth Trio into space! We got two lions now!!
> 
> Also I hard headcanon Mrs. Holt as having been a badass hacker prodigy. And Mrs. Holt as being a nerdy son of a college professor who would ride his bike to the university after school so he could peruse the library. (I might or might not have an super cheesy teenage romance for them in my head, lol)
> 
> Side note, I know there's no romantic focus in this fic, but I was in a wedding over the weekend and as always, my friend and I had some hilariously perfect fanfic moments and now I really need to make some fluff fics. What's your guys' favorite ships??? lol
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : We got two lions! Who's ready ready for more???


	13. Collecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Can I get a hand here? And another. Aaaand maybe another leg while we're at it. Gotta complete the set, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to all my readers. You are amazing and I love your comments!  
> Hmu with your question or comments. I love hearing from you all! ♥
> 
> And I'm glad you all like Grangran so much. I also love Grangran, and I too hope she gets some space booty.

        Lance was a little anxious, even if he grinned and swaggered to make up for it. They were heading back to Arus, where the castle had sat for 10,000 years, because that’s where the lions were set to return if no other signal appeared. The Castle of Lions usually would have a unique signal to sync to for the lions, but in the name of cation, they hadn’t let it broadcast to the universe.

        They were going to meet another Paladin, and not just any paladin, one who was probably a badass akin to the Blade of Marmora. At least, that’s what Lance had to assume since they’d managed to steal a super weapon out right from under The Empire’s nose. He felt excited, but some small portion of him, despite all his time surrounded by amazing, important people, still felt intimidated. It was silly, since he could stand next to Kolivan and Allura and Takahashi flipping Shirogane, and still feel himself. Still, it lingered in the back of his mind.

        He walked to Blue, already in his armor, bayard at his side. He felt like a paladin. He straightened his back and tried to walk with more purpose. He wasn’t sure if it was working until he rounded the corner and found Blue leaned down, open and waiting for him. Next to her, a hand leaning against her tooth reverently, stood Ulaz.

         “She must like you,” Lance said, nearing. “She doesn’t even let Coran get this close when her mouth is open, unless I’m here.” He smiled at Ulaz.

        Ulaz turned to him. “I have always felt that the Blue lion is very welcoming,” he noted. He stepped away from the mouth, but clearly had more to say.

         “She’s a good space lion,” Lance agreed with a nod. “What’s up?”

        Ulaz shifted in his stance. “This is not a promise I can give you,” he said bluntly, reaching over his shoulder, “But when we have collected the lions, and Voltron is completed,” he pulled the blade from behind his back, spinning it in his hand so the blade faced down and the hilt stood between them. “I would vouch for your honor, on my blade.”

        Lance stared at the sword held between them, then up at the purple alien who’s stare drilled into him. Without thinking his hand went to the hilt, laying his hand over the glowing ruin.

         “I cannot say if my request will be heeded,” he started again, “and if it is, you can be certain that the trial will be hard. But I would have you as a brother in this fight.” Lance placed his other hand around the side of the hilt, over Ulaz’s and squeezed.

         “I would be honored,” Lance said, “And I would be your brother weather they want to give me a blade of my own or not,” he added, his voice quivered with emotion and he squared his shoulders to make up for it. He resisted the urge to hug Ulaz, gripping the sword hilt tighter instead. The intensity was broken by a low chuckle. Lance looked up. Ulaz’s free hand came up to cup his shoulder, the large, clawed hand dwarfing his spindly frame.

         “Then you are my brother all ready,” he stated. He pulled the blade back, sheathing it again.

         “Of course!” Lance announced. “I got your back and you got mine.”

         “Of course,” Ulaz agreed, and his fanged teeth showed just a little as a smile tugged on his lips to one side.

 

        The shining glyph in the void of space had taken them somewhere. All the locational readings put them such an absurd distance from where they had started that Keith had to manually corroborate them by pulling up star charts. They weren’t just off in the far reaches of the galaxy, or in interstellar space somewhere. They were in a completely different galaxy. Not even just Andromeda or another neighbor, but a group stars that didn’t even have a name on Earth.

        His pulse quickened. Even at the speeds that had gotten them to the edges of the solar system so quickly, they wouldn’t live to get back to earth from this distance. He should be terrified. A planet rose to greet him on the front viewing screen as Red changed direction and plotted a course down towards it, and Keith found himself exited. This had all be reckless and dangerous, but now there was no turning back. It was all or nothing, answers or bust.

        Red’s sensors pinged and her decent stopped sharp, instead turning and recognizing the nearby ship. Or ships, really. At the center was a large ship, made of white spires and sporting a forcefield akin to the one Red had used. Dotted around the main ship were dark smaller ships that looked more like the fighters that had surrounded the large cruiser they had just escaped from. A twinge of something rippled through Keith looking at them. It felt the same as the retreating forms back of Earth leaving with Lance.

         “Pidge, Hunk, get up here,” he said into his helmet.

        The response crackled through, lost in the cacophony of alien voices. He wondered just how many prisoners Hunk and Pidge had managed to grab off the alien space craft and stuffed into the little cruiser.

         “Are you guys okay down there?” he asked, getting a little concerned that maybe some of the prisoners had been locked up for good reason. There was a crackle then finally Hunk’s voice rising about the rest.

         “Yeah! Yup! Just a few bumps! Pidge does _not_ know how to fly this thing,” he shouted over the din.

         “Hey! I got us in, didn’t I?” Pidge’s voice shouted from a distance.

         “Yeah, yeah!” Hunk shouted back. “Are we still being pursued?”

         “No,” Keith looked back at the ships the red lion pulled them ever closer to. “The Lion ship transported us… you should just come see for yourself,” he said, not sure how to break the news.

         “What?” Hunk shouted. He was cut off for a moment before he came back through, shouting louder, “We’ll just come talk to you when we have this all sorted out!” Before Keith could consider getting up and helping, his attention was brought back to the screen.

        A channel opened and he was greeted by a surprisingly human looking woman. Other than her pointed ears and the glimmer of blue on her cheeks, which could be cosmetic as far as Keith knew, she could have just been a girl. Keith didn’t know what he was expecting. The Robotic Sentries had looked humanoid. He had no good reason to expect anything else. It felt anti-climactic. They should at least be green, or purple or something.

         “Red Paladin. We are here to—” the woman was cut off almost instantly by a familiar enraged screeched.

         “Oh come on!” shouted Lance’s voice, blasting over the Lion’s speakers. The woman paused, one eyebrow raised as she looked to the side of her screen. She seemed unsurprised by the interruption. “Are you kidding me right now?!” Lance went on.

        Keith’s screen lit up with warnings. His hands shot to the controls as Red indicated every fighter around the white ship had trained its weapons on them. Keith new very little about this ship, but in the few moments he’d piloted her, he felt like she was ready for almost anything. He hoped he was as well.

         “Is he a threat?” a serious, deep voice asked, also off screen.

         “No! Nono, he’s just an asshole!” Lance said, finally pushing his way on screen. Keith’s brow furrowed and he felt the need to defend himself. This was like being ambushed in the desert all over again. He had no idea how he was an asshole. The dignified woman who had first opened the channel seemed almost amused, though she kept her face fairly serious.

         “Is he another Earthling?” she asked. “Can we trust him?”

         “Yeah, yeah,” Lance said, but his voice sounded more like a pout than a real acceptance of Keith. “Let him come onboard.” Red’s screens flickered back to normal status and Keith relaxed a little. He wanted to argue, to say _something_ , but by the time he’d processed everything, Lance was gone again.

         “Red Paladin,” the woman addresses him, her tone commanding respect. “I am Allura, Princess of Altea and Captain of the Castle of Lions. We will meet you inside to discuss further.” It wasn’t a request, she was simply telling him what was going to happen, and he didn’t have the option of ‘no’ apparently. He wouldn’t have argued anyway. When the blue shimmering shield dissolved, he let Red guide them into the ‘Castle of Lions’.

 

        Keith had barely stepped out of the Red Lion. Allura was waiting for him, in a fitted white suit that looked battle ready in a very sci-fi way. Lance was already stalking around her and grabbing up all his attention before he had to chance to take in the ship more.

         “Ooooof course it’s you!” he shouted, stomping up to Keith, his arms flying up to gesticulate wildly, “You think you can just waltz in here and be a Paladin of Voltron?”

         “I-“ Keith tried to interject.

         “And you think I’ll just forgive you for being a jerk all those years,” he ranted. “Because of course you have your own Lion!”

         “Lan-“

         “You know what-,” Lance kept going and Keith realized that Lance wasn’t going to stop. He had pressed right into Keith’s face and he had to do something before one of them hit each other. Hunk would be pissed if he gave Lance a black eye before he even knew they’d found him.

         “Stop!” he shouted. “I’m not here to be a Paladin of Voltron or whatever. I’m not here for this lion either! I’m here because of this!” he said shoving the dagger out in front of him. Lance stopped, stepping back to stare at it. Keith tore the wrappings off, but it seemed like Lance didn’t need him to. His eyes were wide and Keith could sense that he knew something. He could feel the answers getting closer.

         “Oh… oh yeah, of course that too,” Lance growled out and Keith was shocked when he looked up to meet Lance’s eyes. Somehow the cold, jaw clenched glare was even worse than the shouting. It made Keith squirm, because he didn’t understand _why_ it was happening. He had managed to offend Lance… again.

        He didn’t have long to worry over Lance’s darkening mood, because people were suddenly approaching. He hadn’t noticed the masked, dark figures around the edges of the room until they were nearly upon him. It was like the ship in the desert sky, invisible until it moved.

        Blades appeared, shifting from daggers like his own, rounding on him. Keith leapt back into a defensive stance, but he was outnumbered and outgunned. His eyes shot around, trying to figure the best path to freedom, whether could get back to the ship, or he could break the line.

         “Where did you get that blade?” a deep voice asked from behind one of the masks.

         “It was given to me. I’ve always had it,” he said.

         “Lies. Who did you take it from,” the voice replied, without hesitation. A stab of defensiveness shot through him at the accusation. It was one thing he knew was his. He knew he was supposed to have it. It was who he was, how he’d gotten here.

         “No,” Lance said, waving suddenly at the masked aliens. “He had it back on Earth. It’s his.”

        Their blades reluctantly pulled back and Keith’s did also, with equal reluctance. He looked to Lance, who was still glaring, though not even at him anymore, just the ground. “Lance…”

         “No!” he snapped. “This is still ridiculous and I’m out.” He spun on his heels and stomped out of the hanger bay. Keith almost wanted to be angry, but his thoughts were torn, and more pressing were the aliens with blades like his.

        It was too late when he realized he should have lead with, “Hunk’s here!”

 

        Allura’s voice rang in Lance’s ear like she was standing right next to him. He couldn’t run away from her while he was in his Paladin’s armor. He groans dramatically before replying. He wasn’t planning on _staying_ mad, but he needed a good storm off to show Keith that he was _not_ allowed to be a secret space prince or something, because with how things were heading, he’d manage it.

         “I don’t want to hear it Allura,” he said.

         “Lance, I know you are upset, but Keith here says this is very important news about people from Earth,” Allura said with much more patience than she would have had for him when they’d first met. They’d both learned to forgive the other’s dramatic moments during their time together. They traded in patience for each other’s failings.

         “What?” Lance stopped dead in his tracks.

         “Uhm,” Allura paused, sounding unsure, “he says something about a hunk of Paige?”

         “Oh, well that sounds very gory,” Coran’s voice piped up, “where is the rest of this poor Paige?”

         “Wait... Hunk? Hunk and _Pidge_?!” Lance nearly shouted.

         “Ah,” Allura said, “Yes, he’s says that’s the one.” She paused, “Isn’t Pidge what you call Matt’s-“

         “YES!” Lance interrupted, his feet already turning him around. “They’re okay, right?” he asked as he broke in a run back to the hanger bay.

         “He says they’re here,” Allura said, “Oh, yes. A pleasure to meet you,” Allura was saying to the side.

         “HERE?!” Lance shouted breathlessly, at a full sprint now.

        It felt surreal to open a door and just see Hunk in his old Galaxy Garrison flight suit just… standing there, Pidge right beside him like it was no big deal they were in space. He didn’t even wait for proper greetings before he leapt into Hunk’s arms. Hunk, to his credit, dropped his helmet without hesitation to catch him. The ensuing hug was brutally tight and entirely satisfying. Lance wheezed out a laugh as Hunk began to spin him after pancaking his lungs briefly. Lance, not being new to Hunk’s spin hugs, lifted his feet just enough to keep them from dragging. Pidge dodged out of the way of Lance’s limbs flinging outwards.

        Keith looked away, ignoring the pang of, what? Jealousy? That wasn’t what he did all this for. He was happy to help Hunk find his best friend, however bizarrely confrontational that friend happened to be. It was a fine bonus that he got to know Hunk and Pidge, but he didn’t do this for any of that. He did it for answers. His eyes trailed over to where the masked figures had retreated to the sides.

        Ulaz walked into the docking back when Lance was being set back on his feet again. He’d been attending to other matters and left greeting of the new Paladin to Allura. He was the only Blade member without a mask on and he caught the eye of the newcomer he was informed was the red paladin, Keith. The other blade members had quietly kept him informed on the dramatic scene of moments ago. He looked at the Earthling for a long silent moment, and the young man stared back, an intensity in his eyes. He turned instead to addresses Lance and Allura.

         “We have indications that there is serious military mobilization in the sector where the Yellow Lion is indicated to be hidden. With the theft of the Red Lion, they may be acting on any possible leads to recapture a lion,” he said evenly.

         “We can move in,” Allura said, jumping right into the new information. She frowned quickly. “but that will only draw attention to the area. The Yellow Lion will not be easy to access. It will be hard to lock on to it with a tractorbeam or get close enough to move it.” Her plan had been to find potential paladins and then move in quietly to remove the remaining hidden lions. She would have to improvise now.

         “Unless we had a Paladin,” Lance said suddenly, his eyes lighting up.

         “We don’t have a Yellow Paladin, though,” Allura replied, sighing at Lance’s enthusiasm.

         “Yeah we do!” Lance turned to the side and threw out both arms in a wide gesture putting Hunk on display.

         “What? Me?” Hunk asked, looking around, “I’m a what now?”

         “The Yellow Paladin of Voltron!” he announced. Hunk did not look convinced, but Lance was apparently convinced enough for he both of them, “Look, Allura. You’ve told me about all of the Lions and what they look for in a Paladin. Hunk literally launched himself into space to find me! He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. He can pick me up. He’s sturdy and reliable and amazing!” Lance listed off. Allura still looked concerned. “It has to be worth a shot,” he tagged on.

        Allura looked Hunk up and down. “Are you prepared to become a defender of the universe?” she asked.

         “Absolutely not!” he replied, horrified looking. Lance elbowed him sharply. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it! Geez! I’m just being honest!”

         “He’s perfect! I promise,” he said. Allura and he made serious eye contact before she relented.

         “Well, all right then….” She said, throwing up her hands. The fate of Voltron rested in Lance’s good character judgement. “Let’s get ready reclaim the Yellow Lion. I’ll send out a call to Matt and Shiro to have the Coalition Forces move in to get the Green Lion. It shouldn’t be as hard to access, after they have the Priests lead them to the location. And with less Galra presence they-“

         “Did you say Matt!?” “Did you say Shiro?” Pidge and Keith shouted in nearly perfect unison.

         “Oh, I didn’t mention?” Lance said with a smug grin, “That I found Takahashi Shirogane, and Matt Holt of the infamous Kerberos Mission?” he asked casually, “No big deal.”

         “Yes, big deal!” Pidge shouted, running up and grabbing him to yank him down to eye level.

         “Woah! Calm down _Katie_ ,” Lance said, a grin spreading over his face. Pidge’s voice dropped.

         “What has he told you?” she asked.

         “Enough,” Lance replied. Pidge let go of Lance’s collar instantly.

         “All right, Mister cried because the cafeteria ran out of cosmic brownies,” Pidge replied, smoothly.

         “Hey! That was a rough week!” Lance said wide eyed, taken off guard by the strong and sudden blackmail offensive.

         “Oh, okay, them how about Mister--,” Lance leapt at Pidge before whatever her next words were had a chance to escape. He slapped a hand over her mouth.

         “I get it!” he said, “And no licking my hand won’t work, buddy,” Lance said. He slowly released her when he seemed satisfied she wasn’t going to finish her sentence.

         “Truce?” Pidge offered.

         “Truce…” Lance agreed, with narrowed eyes. Despite the tension they were both smiling. While they enjoyed the friendships they had made over the last year, there was something special about good old fashion sibling antagonism and they both had missed it. The blackmail, the casual physical violence, all of it was quintessential to a certain type of comfort.

        They shook on the deal and Pidge made a face. She wiped her own saliva off of her hand and Lance grinned a little victoriously. The last aggression had been his and they had a spit sealed truce to keep it that way.

         “Oooookay, you weirdos,” Hunk said. “We were getting a Yellow Magic Robo Space Lion? Yeah?”

         “Yeah!” Lance said, leaping forward. “Come on, you can ride in _my_ magic robo space lion.” He glanced at Allura, “That’s okay, right? If I take her out?”

        Allura contemplated this for a moment before nodding. “I think it’s time. I’ll make a portal for you. You will meet up with the Blade members already in place around the system. Ulaz, alert them we will need cover to bring Hunk in, and possible heavy artillery to gain access to the Yellow Lion if all else fails,” she started coordinating.

         “What about me?” Keith butted in. “If we need fire power, I could take my Lion in to assist.” She looked him over and then nodded. Lance made a groaning noise, but nodded.

         “All right flyboy, let’s go,” he said making an unnecessary face. Keith threw his hands up a little after Lance had turned his back and Hunk just smiled and shrugged apologetically, following after Lance.

         “And me?” Pidge piped up.

         “You stay here and nerd it up with Coran or something,” Lance shouted over his shoulder.

         “Who?” Pidge said, frowning at being left out.

         “Would you like a tour of the castle?” Coran offered, popping back up with perfect timing. He was the orange haired alien who had been helping the 17 prisoners they’d crammed onto their little three-man vessel to nicer accommodations.

         “No, but I’d like to know how we got this deep into space so quick,” Pidge muttered, not seeming interested in ‘tours’.

         “If you like I can show you how the Castle creates the portals,” Coran offered and Pidge’s eyes lit up.

         “This ship makes portals? How? Show me!” Pidge demanded. In a moment, Coran and Pidge were off. This left Allura to open up the portal for to the Yellow Lion’s location, and contact Shiro and Matt about recovering the Green Lion.

 

        By the time Lance and the crew from the castle reached the conflict zone, things had already escalated. Blade fighters were engaged with an Empire Fleet. The sky above the target zone was lit up with laser fire and explosions.

         “Woah,” Lance shouted. “Kolivan! Status! We have the Paladin! I need a path cut for Blue, sending coordinates now. What can you do for me?”

         “I’ll start,” Keith said, before anyone else could reply. The Red Lion burst straight into the fray and starting to carve a path towards the surface.

         “I guess we’re going in!” Lance shouted, exasperated. He dove in behind Red to take advantage of the chaos. Blade fighters were quick to join the offensive, closing in behind Blue to protect them as the two lions charged towards the surface.

        With some help, Blue managed to land and set Hunk down with vague directions and dubious promises of cover from air strikes. Between Lance, Keith, and a battalion of Blade fighters, they kept Hunk safe enough from lasers raining down from the sky on him. This didn’t do anything to help, though, when a squadron of foot soldiers crested the far side of the canyon and managed to get between Hunk and the target. Worse yet, as he dove for cover, another came in from the opposite side.

         “Uh, guys!” Hunk’s voice said in rising panic, “I could use some help down here? Maybe? Possibly?”

        The Blade ships were already bombing the edges of the canyon to prevent reinforcements. They couldn’t do too much about the soldiers already heading his way, though without risking hitting Hunk with bombs or debris

         “We gotta get down there,” Lance said, suddenly.

         “Roger that,” Keith replied. Without a second thought he followed Blue to the ground, and was leaping out of the lion’s mouth moments later.

         “Don’t cramp my style!” Lance shouted as Keith fell into step next to him, charging towards the enemy combatants.

         “Just don’t get in the way,” Keith snipped back. They started making through way through a line of sentries to get to Hunk, who was stuck between a bounder and a sheer rock wall, unable to make it the few feet to the cave entrance he needed to get to.

        Lance did get in the way, at first, or Keith got in his way. He wasn’t prepared for the reckless rush of Keith barreling into danger. He was used to methodical and precise fighting of the Blade. Lance knew how to work with all sorts of covert offensive tactics. He’d trained for them. He just couldn’t figure out what Keith was doing.

        Despite fumbling and tripping over each other, Lance didn’t disagree with the rush. He felt a matching urgency, with Hunk and danger, and he gave him an excuse to be equally reckless. Keith didn’t stop to analyze the situation. He just _went_.

        Lance rushed after him, cleared the combatants flanking him on the right. He nearly collided with him, but instead grabbed a hold of Keith and turn him around in time to take out a foot soldier nearing, as he used Keith as to cover his back while he cleared out the opposite side.

vHe found it was surprisingly easy to find a rhythm with Keith. All the caution and patience he’d groaned about with the blade was suddenly out the window. It was almost refreshing. They switched positions, Lance ducking under Keith’s arm, taking a knee to steady himself and take out some more distance pursuers. Keith was free to launch himself towards Hunk again. Lance quickly dashed after, a grin on his face by the time they reached Hunk to usher him towards the cave.

        They guarded the entrance as Hunk started pulling open a panel and rewiring alien tech like an old pro. He grumbled to himself about how ridiculous this whole thing was as he did. Lance would have taken a moment to praise him, if a troop carrier hadn’t landed just on the other side of the ravine, making it past the hellfire in the sky.

         “Thaaat’s not good,” Lance said, watching troops pour out of the ship and rush towards them. He glanced to Keith who already looked ride or die ready to fight. It was valiant as a thought, but this was beyond just the two of them. He glanced back at Hunk fiddling with the alien tech.

        He was just about ready to grab Keith and drag them both into the cave when the Blade paratroopers fell from the sky like angels; masked, alien, assassin angels. They dropped into the midst of the advancing forces. Lance shouted in excitement just as Hunk did. A mechanical lift shuddered to life for him.

         “Get in there, Hunk. Keith and I will hold the entrance,” Lance ordered.

         “You better not get shot! I did _not_ get involved in all the BS to sob over your dead body, you hear me?” Hunk shouted back, even as he rushed into the cave.

         “I would never leave you like that, baby!” Lance called over his shoulder, a stupid grin on his face. His best friend was going to save the world with him, and his Blade squad was hacking and slashing their way to him, like the badass super warriors they were. Even Keith didn’t seem like a horrible addition to the team. He saw the flick of Antok’s tail along with the fighters and grinned. Seeing his first teacher, probably his first friend in space, out there kicking ass completed the picture.

         “Are you ready?” Lance asked, feeling chaotic energy of battle buzzing around them. He looked to Keith who paused and then smirked.

         “I’m always ready,” he promised. They looked back out towards the nearing fight.

         “All right then,” Lance said, pulling out his gun. Keith swept out the bayard that Allura had hastily handed him on his way out into a sword and launched himself into the fray. This time Lance didn’t trip over him, or fall behind.

        Lance hadn’t been in the front lines of a battle before, not like this. He was a sniper, an infiltrate, not a warrior. He was suddenly glad for how many times Antok had sent him to the training room with the rookies, and every time Allura had turned the Gladiator training bot up a notch to ‘challenge’ him. He was broken and bruised more times than he could count for it, but now, in the midst of Empire Soldiers, it felt worth it. He was ready for this.

        Keith, of course, somehow managed to fit even without the intense, painful, months and months of training. Lance could barely bring himself to be mad as they dodged around each other with ease. If this was all he had to do with Keith, it might not be horrible to work with him.

        Lance had cleared his side. The Blade unit had closed in to their positions. A new carrier had dropped, but they only had one front to fight now. Things were looking better. He turned to find Keith, a snappy comment on his lips

        What happened after was a blur.

        Lance barely had time to be started by the sudden closeness of the enemy combatant. The thing looked more alien than anything he’d seen in space, not because of its shape, he’d seen every shape and size working with the rebels, but how it moved. It was larger and faster than any of the others. It felt like it was lurching, jagged jerking movements, but it had made it to them in just moments from across the battle field. Before Keith could even swing his sword up to defend them, it was nearly upon him.

        Another large figure flew into view faster than such a large mass should be able to, appearing between the creature and Keith.

        Keith was completely still for a moment, staring at the scene in front of him. His senses returned and he managed to move before Lance. He swept out from under the hulking form’s protective shadow and brought his blade down, taking advantage of the distraction and cleanly slicing off the arm of the creature. There was a horrible wail. Moments later the Blade circled in, finishing the thing off. Lance barely saw any of this, his eyes were still stuck on the sword that protruded through Antok’s armor, still glowing a faint, eerie purple.

        The giant alien’s tail whipped hard just once. A noise escaped Antok like nothing Lance had ever heard before. He thought it was supposed to be a growl, but the sound was lost with the glowing weapon thrust through his chest. He was on his knees by the time Lance rounded to his front.

        Antok didn’t say things unless they were worthwhile, Lance had learned that early in his time with the alien. He reached out to Lance, pressing his blade into his hands. He kept shoving forward, forcing the hilt to his chest. Lance clumsily grasped at it, fingers finally managing to grip it despite feeling numb. The blade shrunk back to its dagger form. There were no words. Lance couldn’t find any, Antok couldn’t give any.

        Antok slumped to the side. Lance launched forward to catch him, despite the clear folly in the venture. Lance was more than a string bean teen now, but the Blade warrior was a wall of muscle. Everything narrowed down to his teacher, though, to doing something.

        The world returned in a snap to Lance in a nauseating rush as a hand gripped his arm, stopping him. His own hand shot out to pry the fingers away, to destroy whatever space bad guy dared to interrupt him. He stopped short when he realized his attacker was just Keith.

         “Lance,” he was snapping, yanking him up by the arm. Lance’s feet found themselves under him. He hadn’t realized he’d been on his knees at all.

        The words running through his com channels took longer to filter through to Lance than they should have. “We have to move,” he said, suddenly. The Blade of Marmora was signaling they were bombing the area. They had to get to the cave and leave with Hunk and the Yellow Lion.

        Keith’s eyes flicked to the fallen Blade warrior and Lance gripped the hilt of the dagger tighter. He reached out and took Keith by the wriest, yanking him into cover. Keith followed. They rushed to the elevator and let it take them careening further into the cave system, the noise of combat and laser fire fading into echoing ghosts of war behind them.

 

         “Shit… _Shit_.” Lances voice was quiet and tight. He couldn’t grasp onto any thoughts long enough to form an explanation. “This is your fault,” he breathed, finally. His eyes darting up to Keith. Keith’s eyes met his, suddenly widening at the accusation. Lance was already speaking again though. “No. No this is my fault,” he said, eyes shooting down to the weapon in his hand.

         “Lance,” Keith’s voice was so soft the noise of the elevator threatened to eat it. Lance straightened. Realizing what Antok would tell him. He was being arrogant. This wasn’t about him or them. It was never about one person.

         “This is just something that happened,” he said. His voice was solid. A hand touched his arm again, this time a light touch. He didn’t look to see what sort of expression came with it. He didn’t need pity, he needed to finish the job.

         “We’ll catch up with Hunk, he’ll give us a lift with the Yellow Lion. We’ll reclaim Red and Blue and all return to The Castle. If we’re fast enough, we might be able to assist with the retrieval of the Green Lion,” he said and was shocked at his own voice. It was even, controlled, at absolute odds with the tightening twist in the pit of his stomach. People died. This was a war. People died in war. It didn’t clear the sharp, unnatural twitch of Antok’s tail from his mind. It didn’t stop him from remembering the first smile he ever got from him, sitting in that tiny classroom when he’d successfully learned some inane shifting cypher for encoding messages.

         “There’s heavy fire on the ground now, we might not be able to land easily,” Keith said, his voice equally all business. Lance finally looked back to his expression. It was tight and determined. Lance nodded.

         “We’ll figure something out.”

        They caught up with Hunk just as he was rushing into Yellow, shouting after him. The lion seemed reluctant until Hunk had gotten fully to the pilot’s seat and forced it to open up again and let his comrades in. They rushed up to the cockpit to join him.

         “So, how do we get out of here?” Keith asked the obvious question. They’d come down a narrow path and were deep into the cliff. There weren’t any obvious exits. The screen was lighting up as Hunk’s hands ran over the controls to figure them out.

         “This guy looks like it has a tough exterior with extra reinforcing,” Hunk noted. Him and Keith exchanged glances and Keith shrugged. “All right then,” he said, yanking the controls before he could change his mind.

         “Wait, Hunk, what—” Lance barely caught the look before they were careening full speed towards to the wall. Despite being the one driving, it was Hunk who was shouting the most as they charged the thick stone and smashed through it moments later. Keith let out a victorious holler when daylight burst onto their viewscreen. He reached over to Hunk’s hand to pull it and the controls back, shoot them up into the air.

        Lance grabbed the back of the seat. He was shocked to find Hunk not puking as they spiraled into the air.

         “Hunk! Fly us over Red and Blue,” Keith demanded, pointing.

         “There’s a lot of action down there. I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover you guys on the ground,” Hunk said, warily.

         “That’s fine, just open the lion’s mouth. I’ll jump,” Keith informed.

         “Oh, all right you’ll-Wait you’re gonna what?!” Hunk said jerking around in his seat, but Keith was already on his way out. “Keith! Keith, are you sure!?” he shouted. Lance was already heading off after him.

        The lions mouth was open, even if Hunk was still proclaiming the folly of anyone jumping out of it, and assuring them that, really he could just land. He said all this, but at the same time noted that they were coming up on Red in: 3, 2, 1…

        Keith leapt out of the lion.

         “Okay, we’re past Red… Keith, you didn’t really jump, did you?” Hunk asked over the speakers.

         “Crazy son of a bitch actually jumped…” Lance replied, a little stunned.

         “What?”

         “Whelp,” Lance said.

         “Lance no,” Hunk protested.

         “We’ll rendezvous back at the castle,” he said. Lance, not to be outdone by the likes of Keith, leapt as well.

 

 

        There was no rushing the slothmen. Shiro had learned that the hard way. When he tried to take the paddle, and help them move along faster, everything had stopped. They wouldn’t give him any direction, they just stared at him as if his urgency were horrifying. He’d returned the paddle gently and ducked his head apologetically. He sat quietly now, but Matt could feel the underlying tension.

        He sat down next to Shiro, bumping shoulders with him as the boat rocked lightly with his movement. He could see Shiro falling into his head. He didn’t lose himself entirely anymore, but it did mean that the fall out when everything was said and done would be worse. Matt wanted to avoid that, if possible.

         “What’s the plan?” he asked. Shiro couldn’t brood nearly as efficiently when he was being a commander. If he was taking care of others he had to be strong. The question pulled him back to the surface and the real world. He blinked and his eyes focused on Matt.

         “We locate the Green Lion’s precise location and send out that information. The nearest Rebel fleet is on their way as fast as they can while keeping up stealth. We have not yet seen any convergence on this planet, but it seems Galra ships are closing rank and sweeping the system,” Shiro listed. Matt knew most of that already, but it felt so precise and clear when Shiro explained it.

         “And if we have to get the Lion out of here?” Matt asked, a harder question now. Shiro nodded thoughtfully. Matt jostled his shoulder again, “Hey, maybe you’re a Paladin,” he offered. “Allura always looks at you really intently whenever she mentions finding more paladins.” He sighed, “I wish she’d look at me like that sometimes.”

        Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Really, Matt?” he said too flatly for it to be a question. Matt could see the edge of a smile, though. He gave his best innocent look back.

         “She’s a rebel space princess. You know I had a thing for Princess Leia,” he said with a dreamy sigh.

         “I remember you also having a thing for Luke,” Shiro noted, “And Han. Padme too. And Mace Windu-,”

         “Okay! His light saber was purple! He was so cool! How can you blame me for that?” Matt asked. Shiro snorted.

         “So, that’s all it takes a win you over? A cool weapon?” he asked.

         “Or roguish allure, or a royal authoritative air, or that farmer boy charm,” he listed off on his fingers. “Don’t get too excited just because you have a purple hand, buddy,” he teased. “It’s not _that_ cool.” Shiro snorted and Matt bumped against his shoulder again. The air had lightened around him.

        The slothmen pulled the boat to the side of the river, finally. They gestured into the jungle. Shiro leapt off the boat and Matt followed at his heels. Lichen cover stones lead them towards a temple like structure, covered in green and brown from the jungle around them. At the center stood a step pyramid, the top domed with thick, sturdy looking tangled roots and vines, woven together.

         “Is this it?” Matt asked, his eyes hooking at the natural roof. It wasn’t the tallest structure, but it felt central to everything. It felt different. He didn’t wait for Shiro’s confirmation. Instead he started toward it. Before he knew it, he was climbing the large, stony steps. Only when he reached the top did he turn to make sure Shiro had come with him.

        Shiro looked down at the roots and then to Matt, giving a half shrug, half nod. Matt, despite his better judgement, was already stepping out onto the woven tangle. Creeping forward on the gnarled flooring, he tried not to trip as he tried to find a break to see down into the pyramid. He was near the center when a light flashed under him, bursting out from under the roots. Matt shouted in alarm, turning to race back to the safety of the stone, but it was too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, tho, Keith better not be space royalty or Lance is flipping a table!
> 
> (also I'm sorry Antok, bb. I love you, you beautiful lion tailed brick wall TnT)
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Let's shuffle the deck.


	14. The Shuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Okay, so now we just need a Black Paladin! ... Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few directions I was thinking of going with the end of this fic, so I hope you all like what I've ended up deciding on~
> 
> (If anyone was curious what had kept me from getting distracted from this fic even as it became a MUCH larger project than I was anticipating, it was the overplaying of [Feel It Still](https://youtu.be/pBkHHoOIIn8) on the radio for the last handful of months. I think it's the unofficial theme song of this fic at this point, lol)
> 
> Thank you for everyone who's commented, bookmarked, and kudoed so far. I love hearing form you all and seeing what you guys think of this AU :D

        The Green lion flew into the castle, white spires like open arms to another of its lost children, and the new paladin it brought with it. Trailing behind was the clunky little Rebel Junker, sputtering and fizzling out as its core was pushed past its limits to throw it’s cloaking over the much larger ship. At least, it held up the cloaking until the giant glowing symbol appeared in space to destroy any semblance of sneakiness.

        Shiro landed the tuckered out ship with a clunk while Matt landed his new ship much more gracefully, its paws touching down with surprising softness for how large the chip was. Matt walked down the ramp in the lion’s mouth, hands thrown up in self-congratulations.

         “Guess who’s a Paladin Mother fu—” Matt started, proud grin on his face.

         “Matt!” an excited voice interrupted, and he barely needed a second to recognize it.

         “Katie?!” His head snapped up and found his sibling. There was a little less hair and a little more height, but that was definitely a Holt. They run at each other at full speed until Pidge leapt at him. She didn’t care if she knocked him over, but was surprised to find her once string bean of a nerd brother was able to catch her. She clung to him like a koala laughing in response.

         “When’d you get muscles?” she asked, finally letting him put her down.

         “When did you get into _space_?” Matt replied, checking her over once he’d let her go. His hands fluttered nervously around her head and turned her about. She laughed and let herself be inspected.

         “I’m fine, and like… a few days ago,” she said.

         “What? How?” he asked, stepping back once he’d assessed her to be real and healthy. He stole the glasses he’d once worn off her head and found them to be useless.

        The explanation that followed, Shiro only half understood as he passed by, stepping up to Allura. Allura looked bemused at the two of them as they exchanged highly technical information about anything and everything that happened since their parting. It about as confusing for Allura to understand than Matt and Lance’s discussion of the Star Battle Movies some time ago.

         “We have a Green Paladin,” Shiro noted, and looked to Allura to explain Pidge’s presence.

         “We have a Yellow Paladin as well,” she replied. At Shiro’s curious look she explained, “You missed a bit while you were away.”

         “I see that,” he said.

         “More Earthlings. Red was stolen by a friend, or… rival? Of Lance’s. The new Red Paladin seemed to know your name as well. Were you very famous on Earth?” She asked.

         “Only among the cadets” He said with a chuckle. “How did they get out this far?”

         “It seems our new Yellow Paladin is quite a mechanic. They refurbished an old Altaen Royal Escort ship. With Pidge’s help they imported a Galra Escape Pod’s computer, and used it to track down the origin point, which it seems was the ship with the Red Lion. Their answer was apparently to steal the Red Lion from a highly secure military facility. Are all Earthlings so… rebellious?”

        Shiro chuckled, though he seemed a little preoccupied, puzzling a few things together. “So, who came with Katie here into space then?”

         “Our new Yellow Paladin is a Hunk? I just got word, they should be back in a few moments with Lance and our Red Paladin, Keith,” she explained.

         “Keith?” Shiro turned to Pidge and Matt, “You came with Keith Kogane?” he shouted.

         “Yeah!” she called back.

        Shiro huffed out a laugh after another shocked moment, “Of course you did…” he turned back to Allura, “I know Keith. He’s a good pilot. It certainly won’t hurt to have him on our side”

         “That’s a relief to hear,” she admitted, “Lance seemed a little… on edge when he showed up.”

         “Princess,” Coran’s voice piped up over the speakers.

         “I need to open the portal for the Lions to come back,” she said, but sounded concerned. Shiro waited. “With all this energy usage, I’m worried about the crystal…” she explained. “The readings have been inconsistent, but I haven’t had a chance to check on its health since everything started happening all at once. I should have tended to it right away, after lying dormant for so many years,” she admitted. She knew she’d been running it on borrowed time since day one.

         “I’ll take a look and see if the readings in the engine room are any clearer. You get that portal up,” Shiro offered, always ready to be pragmatic. Allura had more important things to be doing than routine maintenance.

        Allura thanked him and heads to the main deck. Pidge nearly dragged Matt back onto the Green Lion, demanding a full tour. Shiro walked towards the strange crystal engine room. He might not understand how the glowing rock generated the power it did, but his time in the Rebel Coalition, as well as his time with Matt, had taught him how to understand any engine read outs, no matter how strange the ship.

        He walked into the large echoing chamber that held the energy source, a vast empty space like a buffer between it and the rest of the ship. He followed the bridge to the little walkway that surrounded it. He pulled up the diagnostics and started looking them over. Allura was right. At their consumption rate, with all these jumps, and the poor retention of the aged crystal, they would need a replacement soon. He was wondering just how a battery like this was replaced when he heard a noise in the vast and empty chamber.

        He froze.

        The noise was soft, a chattering little whisper, almost a chirp. It floated around like the static in his head. The scar on his temple itched. It wasn’t the sharp tingling pain that woke him up some nights, though. It was more a tickle.

        Despite knowing the sound was in his head, he felt the urge to turn. Something about the noise made him feel like the source was near. It wasn’t louder, sometimes the static in his head would get so loud he couldn’t hear his thoughts, but it was soft and clear. He rubbed the scar at his temple before giving in and turned around.

        A mouse, pink and bright eyed, stood on the railing, staring at him.

         “Hello…” he said after prolonged eye contact with the little creature. A sharp nod acknowledged his words, and three more mice leapt into view. One was large and sleepy looking, another small with ears bigger than its head, and another was sharp looking, eyes suspicious slits. He blinked and they blinked back.

        It wasn’t words that he heard, but a general sentiment, a feeling that they were meant to be followed.

         “I don’t have time right now. The Yellow Lion is coming back,” he explained. He had seen these mice before, usually skittering around in front of Allura’s feel before scattering out of view. “I will find you later,” he offered.

        _No. This was urgent_.

        He looked back to the door across the long bridge, the way back to the docking bay where he should be meeting up with the new paladins, and discussing strategy.

        The mice hopped off the rail, one by one lightly landing and starting in the opposite direction. There was a door on that side as well, over a different long bridge.

        _This way_.

        He nodded and started to the other door. His gait kept him at pace with the mice scampering, with just a few rushed skip steps around corners to make sure he didn’t lose them as they darted through corridor after corridor. He had gotten to know the basic areas of the castle well enough while working with the Voltron Team, but this way didn’t feel familiar. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find his way back, even. This place felt deep and secret. It felt hidden.

        The mice stopped at an innocuous door, all lining up in front of it. It looked the same as the one across the way, or to its left or right. He reached to the control panel to open it for the waiting mice. The panel blinked a single negative and went black. Shiro frowned and reached over to try again. It didn’t even flash the negative this time. It remained black and dead.

         “I… can’t get in. Is there another way?” Shiro asked, looking down at the mice. The sharp looking one turned up and stared at him.

        _No. This was the only way in_.

        All right. He nodded and reached for the side of the door. He’d ripped doors open before. His hand glowed purple and the mice scattered out from under the door as he stepped forward. They regathered behind him, watching. He shoved his fingers into the door frame, trying to make some headway and find the edge of the door. He tried to bend the frame back, or the door in, or give himself some sort of grip, but even his enhanced hand found nothing. He tried the top and the other side. Nothing budged.

         “Do I need a code? Or a key?” he asked.

        _No, he didn’t._

        He sighed.

        He powered up his hand for one last ditch effort. He threw his hand forward. Brute force was occasionally the answer. Before his hand even got to the door, it hit something else. A blue ripple ran across the surface, and a familiar hexagonical pattern flashed in miniature. He’d seen this protecting the castle and the Blue Lion.

         “What’s in her-,” he started, looking back at the mice, but his attention was grabbed as a roar rang out through the castle, echoing through the halls. In a way it reminded him of the whispers of the mice, a noise in his head. The roar was loud and clear though.

        The door brightened and the panel lit up, flashing an affirmative and opening without Shiro even having to ask it. The mice ran in, scampering around his feet excitedly. He followed, careful not to step on any toes or tails as he did.

        The hanger was huge, and hung open to the stars. A moment of panic passed over him as he looked up at the gaping hole. It was opened wide enough for the giant lion standing at attention to fly clear out. The telltale shimmer of blue meant he was safe, though. The Lion was black with accents of gold and red. Wings stood behind her, giving her an impressive silhouette against the glimmer of stars. Her head was up, as if considering flying right out that door. The stare felt longing, and he felt guilty for keeping her.

        He stood and stared until her head turned down and looked at him. He stepped forward slowly, matching her pace as she lowered her head. They met as her chin touched the ground. Shiro felt small, not insignificant, but like a simple stitch in a patterned so much larger than himself. His hand reached up to touch the bottom of her nose, but he stopped short, looking at the metal arm. He lowered his hand.

        The Black Lion raised her head sharply and only his absolute trust in her kept him from jumping away from the giant piece of machinery. He turned back around to follow her gaze. Allura stood just inside the doorway, staring at the lion behind him.

         “She’s bigger than the others,” he noted. He turned back to watch as the Black Lion stood herself up.

         “The Black Lion is the head of Voltron, meant for a leader, the Black Paladin, who will guide Voltrons actions,” Allura said, her voice coming closer. “Of course, the leader has to be bigger than the rest,” she added. Shiro turned to reply, as she stepped up next to him, but did a double take. He had to looked up to meet her eyes, just a little. He chuckled.

         “You have been spending too much time with Lance, I think,” he said, softly. She smiled down at him, her size normalizing casually. Her hand reached his shoulder, laying over it gently.

         “The Black Lion has chosen you,” she said.

         “No,” he replied, without thought. The statement didn’t feel wrong, but the denial came out anyway, and that felt right as well. Her hand fell from his shoulder.

         “Shiro, you found your way here. It called to you,” Allura said, her tone concerned.

         “Mice brought me here,” he replied with a light chuckle. “And you’re here too,” he reminded.

         “I already knew the way,” she shook her head. “And the mice know a few things,” she added. They both looked up at the lion, her head turned down towards the pair of them.

        He didn’t respond, eyes locked on the yellow ones above them.

         “Shiro,” Allura said, and turned to glare at him. “You’re being ridiculous. You are obviously meant to pilot the Black Lion. You are a natural born leader, strong and decisive, a pilot,” she listed.

         “Maybe… in another universe,” Shiro said, softly. “Or some other time, but… I’m compromised,” he said, his metal fingers clenching.

         “No one thinks-,” Allura started.

         “I shouldn’t be on the front lines,” Shiro interrupted, sharply, finally looking at Allura. “Not yet,” he added softer. “If there was no other option. If no one else was here, I could take on this responsibility, but… I would not be the _best_ choice. Not right now...”

         “No one else _can_ do this,” Allura informed.

         “You’re here,” he said again. “Anyway, I already have a place, with the Coalition. I don’t think my job there is done.”

         “I’m not meant for the Black Lion,” Allura said, with such seriousness that Shiro was surprised. Allura never struck him as the sort to shy away from responsibility. She was looking up at the giant ship and Shiro was surprised to see a touch of fear in her eyes. He paused before turning his hand out towards hers, the Galra hand. She hesitated before taking it. He squeezed, and she squeezed back.

         “This Lion chose Zarkon last,” Allura said. Shiro nodded.

         “Then all the more reason it should be you,” he said, lifting their hands up towards the Lion. “She needs someone who is strong enough to defeat him. Who can stand as a symbol to the universe that he won’t ever win.” The Black Lion lowered her head to them again. Shiro slipped his hand out of Allura’s, leaving hers there alone to meet the Lion. Her hand pressed to the white metal of her mouth. “Plus, no one else deserves to take back the black bayard from him more than you,” he said with a light lilt to his voice. Allura laughed, a single breathy laugh, a smile cracking over her mouth. In the same instant, The Black Lion roared and her mouth opened.

        Allura swallowed and looked back at Shiro, who had casually backed away a few paces.

         “The Paladins are your team, not mine. A human should lead them” she tried one last protest.

         “ _We_ are your team. We always were,” he replied. He nodded his head meaningfully towards the waiting mouth.

         “You’re meant to be a Paladin, Shiro,” Allura said, solidly.

         “I’ll just have to settle on being the leader of the Intergalactic Coalition of Freedom Fighters defeating a tyrannical dictatorship,” he said, with a playful smile and a shrug. After a silence, when she didn’t look away, he nodded. “When you have more important things to do, and need someone to take care of Voltron… we can talk again. Right now, though, you’re the leader Voltron needs. It’s your time, Allura,” he said.

        She didn’t have any protests left.

        Allura stepped into the Black Lion.

 

        Lance hadn’t moved from his place in Blue. He wasn’t ready for the next moment yet, because he knew he would be thrilled that Hunk was accepted by the Yellow Lion, and he and Allura would be off planning the next move. They would have to find a Black Paladin and form Voltron. It would be exciting and the last mission would be washed away. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

        Lance had seen people die before. It was part of the job. It was part of war. It was part of life. Ships were shot down, people were hit, soldiers were lost.

        Antok was not just a soldier, though. He had been a friend. He’d been the first to breech formality and offer something beyond the basic necessities of team work. He’d shared ideas and opinions with Lance when barely anyone would even speak to him. He’d been the only one Lance had spoken to about Earth.

        It wasn’t until he heard footsteps behind him that he realized how long he’d been sitting. He took in a deep breath and stood up, snatching up the blade. He spun around and was surprised to find Ulaz standing in the doorway.

         “Ulaz, good. What’s the status report? Do we need to assist the Rebel Coalition with the retrieval of the Green Lion?” He asked, pitching his voice deeper to cover the warble that threatened to show through. “How did the retreat of the Blade unit go? We’ll need to make sure activity in that area is dropped and move the base-,” his voice cracked and he stopped short to clear his throat roughly. It was so tight it was threatening to cut off his air as he kept speaking. “-base in that sector,” he managed.

         “The Green Lion is already docked and has a pilot. The unit has retreated and is dispersing to avoid tracking,” Ulaz assured.

         “Good,” Lance said, clipped, only able to manage the single word at a time. “Here,” he added, offering Antok’s weapon out, hilt first to the Blade agent.

         “Lance,” Ulaz stared, and despite his monotone, it sounded gentle. A hand reached out and pushed the dagger back to him. “I didn’t ask you to be part of The Blade of Marmora because I didn’t know who you were.”

        The words were so simple and so honest, that the tension in Lance broke and he doubled over, holding the weapon to his chest. He took in a gasping breath to make up for every part of him fighting to deny him oxygen. His nose felt clogged, his throat closed. He felt mid sob without a tear yet escaping his eyes.

         “We die. It’s how the Blade has always been. We die and we are supposed to accept that, but you are not just a Blade. You are a Paladin… You are allowed to care. You have to, because you are a defender. Not just the quiet kind, but the sort that needs to be seen, and needs to be seen caring,” Ulaz spoke, picking each word with precision as always. “We will die. You will die. But because of how we live, the universe will live.”

        Lance let out a stuttering sob of a laugh as he stood himself back up. His eyes were wet, but no tears escaped them. “I’m not part of the Blade of Marmora, Ulaz,” he reminded.

         “A Blade is not given without a Trial given as well,” Ulaz replied. With a finger he pressed the hilt, still clutched to Lance’s chest. “It is not a gift that Antok has given you, but I think it is the right choice for the universe.”

        Lance swallowed and nodded.

         “Come on. There are new Paladins to greet,” he said turning around. Lance followed after, pressing the dagger to his side, his armor knowing to holster it for him.

 

        Lance was greeted by the enthusiastic cheering of a pair of Holts.

         “We’re both paladins because the Holt family RULES AT OUTERSPACE BITCHES” Pidge shouted from atop Matt’s shoulders as he paraded his little sibling out of the Green Lion.

         “Wait, both of you?” Lance asked.

         “Heck yeah,” Matt said, putting Pidge down. The siblings high fived.

         “We have a Black Paladin as well,” Shiro noted from the doorway. All eyes turned to him.

         “Shiro! My man!” Matt congratulated, like he’d been waiting to forever. Shiro just smiled and shook his head. He stood aside to let Allura enter, already fully dressed in the Black Paladin’s armor.

         “Wow! Allura! Now _that’s_ a good look for you, Ow _OW_!” Lance cat called with a playful grin from across the room. Allura rolled her eyes, but she looked smug. She knew it suited her.

         “I think it’s time we formed Voltron,” She said, sounding confident.

        The team cheered enthusiastically just as Hunk, breathless, jogged into the room. He let out a belated “Whoo!” then looked around. “What are we cheering about, what’s going on?” he asked.

         “We’re going to form Voltron, because Allura’s a badass, so we have all five of the Paladins,” Lance caught him up.

         “Okay. Right. Cool cool cool. How do we do that?” he asked.

         “I don’t know,” Lance replied with a smile. “But it starts with us all getting into our lions.”

         “Oh, let me!” Pidge blurted.

         “Pidge, clearly I should pilot Green for this,” Matt replied.

         “What?” Pidge scrounged up her face, offended. “No way, team Voltron needs some more girls. It should be able to pass the Bechdel test, Matt.”

         “Can you even fly a space ship, Katie?” he replied.

         “Of course!” she said without a moment of doubt.

         “ _Have_ you ever flown a space ship?” Matt clarified. “That _wasn’t_ on autopilot,” he tagged on.

         “Uh, absolutely! I flew us during our escape from the Warship! With all the prisoners,” she said. Matt looked to Hunk for confirmation.

         “She flew it half a mile and crashed it into the inside of the Red Lion,” Hunk clarified.

         “Betrayer!” Pidge cried. Hunk shrugged. Matt Grinned.

         “HA! I Pilot Green until we get you some proper flight training,” he said.

         “I never should have come out to space to rescue you! So ungrateful,” she muttered.

         “I was already rescued by the time you got here.”

         “It's the thought that counts?”

         “Okay calm down you two,” Shiro said, breaking them apart, “We're just making sure we can form Voltron. We can work out custody later.”

         “I get weekends!” Pidge shouted.

         “Oh my god, Katie…” Matt said exasperated. “I clearly get to be cool weekend dad.” Shiro sighed and shooed the other Paladins to their respective lions while he dealt with the Holt siblings.

 

        Lance returned to Blue, hyped to finally get to form Voltron. He was so excited, in fact, he didn’t bother to check if Blue’s doors were open and waiting like always. He crashed into her mouth, shut tight.

         “Uh, excuse me?” he said, looking up at her. For the first time it didn’t feel like she was listening when he spoke. “Blue?” It felt like he was talking to a machine, an inanimate object. “Hey,” he knocked on her teeth. “It’s time to form Voltron,” he said. His stomach was slowly dropping. He had been so excited. He had this team. He was going to get to save the universe with Hunk and Allura and Pidge, and hell, even Keith hadn’t sounded so bad a second ago. He suddenly felt nervous.

        The lions had all found worthy people, and with all the other lions getting perfect paladins, well, maybe Blue wanted an upgrade. Maybe she didn’t just want the random kid that found her in the desert and got swept up in all this. Being a Paladin was being a Brilliant Holt family member, or amazing mechanical genius, or badass warrior space princess, or a stupid mullet headed jerk. Just… not him.

        Lance knocked one more time on Blue’s mouth.

         “Blue? Baby?” he said, his voice too pathetic to sound suave.

        Silence.

        Lance felt numb as he started his walk back to the main hanger. His head was going through what he’d say, how he’d break it to them all that he wasn’t worthy of Blue anymore. How he’d act casual. The words rattled around in the emptiness, as he forced his mind to stay surface level, to stay calm.

        Shouting broke his forced serenity.

         “What is _wrong_ with you?” Keith’s voice rang out into the hallway from the next docking bay over. Lance paused.

         “Is it because I left the thingy in there? Because, like, I didn’t have it the first time I flew you so…” Keith trailed off. Lance peered around the doorway to see Keith pacing in front of the Red Lion, her shields up.

         “I thought we had a _thing_!” he said, throwing his hands up. “We had a bonding moment! You caught me in your mouth,” he insisted.

        Keith stopped and put his hand to the shield and pushed. Then he pressed his shoulder to it and pushed harder, his feet skidding uselessly back as he tried to force his way through. He stopped suddenly, jumping back.

         “You know, I don’t know what you _want_ from me,” he said, glaring up accusingly at the lion.

        Lance suddenly didn’t feel so numb. Maybe all the lions were locked up. At the very least, Keith was as unworthy as him, and something about that made it hurt less. Maybe just seeing Mr. Ace Pilot, waltzes into everything and is perfect, struggle was good enough to lift his spirits. He was probably wearing too big of a grin, but he just couldn’t help it.

         “Hey there, mullet,” he said, cheerfully sauntering over. Keith’s head snapped over to him.

         “Not right now Lance,” he growled.

         “Oh, calm down,” he said waving off the snarl. He needed this right now. Teasing Keith sounded downright therapeutic, in fact. “So-,” Lance put out a hand to casually lean on the shield around Red, just to really remind Keith of the problem at hand. His hand never hit shield though. With an undignified yelp, Lance kept falling, the shield dissolving away under his hand.

        Lance scrambled to his feet, and they both stared as Red leaned down and opened up. Cautiously, Lance started toward her. She let him all the way in, to the cockpit. He tentatively sat himself down. The consoles lit up for him.

         “Red, you like me, you really like me?” he said, a quiet but dramatic performance.

 

        Lance trotted out of Red feeling refreshed. Blue was just letting the other lions get in some quality time with the coolest paladin around, clearly. That sounded better to him than any other solution he’d come up with.

        He walked out to find Keith standing stock still, his arms crossed and face pinched up. He was trying to look neutral and doing a horrible job. This kept getting better and better for Lance.

         “Wow! Look at that. I can pilot Red,” he cooed as he trotted down the ramp.

         “Great,” Keith snipped back.

         “And she just won’t even let you in?” he asked.

         “I guess not,” he replied, refusing to look at Red _or_ Lance. Lance leaned around to get in front of his face.

         “Are you mad?” Lance asked, his eyes lighting up.

         “No,” Keith snapped, his fists balled and his jaw tight.

         “You are!” he cried with delight, clapping his hands together and holding them lovingly in front of his chest.

         “I’m not upset!” he insisted, glaring at Lance, because he was totally, completely upset.

         “You’re mad that I’m the lion king and you’re just a delivery boy!” Lance said in a sing-songy voice. “Admit it.”

         “Fine. Yes.” Keith threw his hands out, frustration emanating off him.

         “Oh… Keithy Keithy Keith,” he said, smiling and leaning on Red’s teeth casually. Keith was again refusing to look at him, glaring at everything else to pretend he didn’t care. He hadn’t come out into space for the Lion. It didn’t matter.

         “Whatever,” he said.

         “Blue locked me out too,” he said.

         “What?” Keith’s eyes found him then.

         “Blue locked me out like two minutes ago.” Lance pushed off the Lion’s tooth.

         “Why?” Keith asked. His arms dropped, his posture relaxing.

         “Dunno,” he replied, casually. When he turned back around, Keith was giving him a skeptical look. He laughed and asked, “You think I _know_ what’s going on?”

         “Yes!” Keith said. “You always know something I don’t!”

        Lance was taken aback. “What?”

         “You beat me to everything. I’m just scrapping along behind you and it’s infuriating. So, yes. If you’re always going to be here first, I expect you to at least have the common decency to tell me what’s going on!”

         “I… Keith, I have no idea what’s going on ever,” Lance said, stuck between wanting to laugh and being honestly shocked. “I literally _fell_ into the cave where I found Blue. I only went out there to spite you, basically.”

         “How is you literally stumbling into what I was looking for for over a year supposed to make me feel better, Lance?” he asked.

         “You’re the one who waltzes in to everything I care about, two hours late with starbucks, and show me up like you don’t even care!” Lance replied. “You beat me at literally everything!”

         “Like what?” Keith crossed his arms, as if he’d never been infuriatingly talented.

         “Like the Piloting Program, and simulator scores! And it took you like two seconds of being in space to break into a Galra base and steal a crazy super weapon. And-oh! Who’d have guessed, you’re a long lost member of the organization I’ve just spent my _whole time in space_ trying to convince to even give me the time of day. But you already have a Blade and are some sort of prodigy, I’m sure, like in everything else!” Lance stopped, realizing he was shouting just inches from Keith’s face. Keith wasn’t shouting back. All the tension left the air in a rush and he felt ridiculous. He jerked back and gritted his teeth. He wanted to still be angry, but Keith wasn’t being angry back.

         “Lance… I trained my entire life to be _this_. I mean, I didn’t know what ‘this’ was, but I knew I didn’t belong on Earth. I knew my mother left me this,” he pulled his dagger out, “and that it meant she was something-that _I_ was something… that didn’t fit,” Keith said. Lance stared at Keith, who’s eyes were locked on the dagger, except it wasn’t a dagger anymore. He held a full blade now. They were both silent, stunned.

         “Alright,” Lance said.

         “Alright?” Keith asked.

         “Alright,” Lance confirmed. Keith stared confused until he went on. “So, I suggest going and talking to Ulaz. He’s nicer than Kolivan, and more likely to help you convince them to let you take the Trial. Kolivan shouldn’t be _that_ hard of a sell, though, since your part Galra,” Lance explained as calmly as he could.

         “I’m what?” Keith asked, scowling.

         “Galra. You’re clearly part Galra,” Lance said, like it was obvious. “God, Keith. Someone left you a secret space blade. You had an obsession with tracking down aliens. You had the desperate need to get into space,” Lance listed. “Oh, and a Blade of Marmora blade only transforms if you have Galra blood,” he tagged on his real evidence at the end.

         “So… I’m part alien…” it sounded half like a question, but he looked like he’d already accepted it.

         “Just go, you alien freak,” Lance commanded. Keith waffled and Lance dramatically rolled his eyes. “Come on. We should probably just call a conference to figure out what’s going on anyway,” he said, grabbing Keith’s wrist and dragging him to the door.

 

         “What happened?” Allura asked as she joined the crowd forming in the command room, “We were supposed to form Voltron.”

         “Can’t!” Hunk shouted from the back of the crowd.

         “What?” Allura faltered, nerves peeking through her badass leader persona.

         “Yeeeeeah, so Blue kinda kicked me out,” Lance said.

         “What?” Allura repeated louder.

         “And Red kicked out Keith,” Lance added. Allura’s eyes widened. “It’s okay! It’s cuz Red needed me.”

         “My lion still likes me,” Hunk announced.

         “Well, of course, you’re perfect,” Lance replied. “But I’m the Red Paladin, now.”

         “Ah…” she nodded, seeming to understand. “I’m sorry, that’s my fault,” she explained, “you’re my right-hand man, Lance. When I took on the position of head of Voltron, I guess I’ve just gotten used to you being my co-conspirator,” she was smiling a little sheepishly.

         “Aww…” Lance put a hand to his chest. “You’re _my_ favorite co-conspirator too, Allura,” he said, sounding a little choked up.

         “We’re still short a Blue Paladin, guys,” Pidge broke the sentimental mood to remind. Hunk elbowed her, “What?! We are!” she muttered.

         “She’s right…” Allura said, seriously.

         “What about Shiro?” Matt piped up. Allura glanced at Shiro.

         “I think I am in my best position coordinating the Coalition,” he said with such certainty that the matter was closed.

         “What about me!” Pidge said, “Green Lion already accepted me, maybe the Blue one will too,” she offered.

         “Iiiii don’t think so Pidge. I don’t think you’re exactly Blue’s style,” Lance replied. Pidge frowned, but didn’t argue.

        Coran suddenly appeared around the corner, sliding into the middle of the discussion, a cape fluttering behind him. He struck a pose. “I may not be much of a pilot, Princess, but I have the heart of a Paladin!” he announced.

         “I suppose there’s no harm in trying,” Allura said, “Pidge, _and_ Keith,” she called, “You two as well.”

 

        The candidates all tried their hand at piloting Blue, to no avail. Allura sighed heavily. Frustration was in the air, but it was strongest from Allura. They were so close to having the paladin’s together, to being able to form Voltron. Her confidence was wavering. Lance wanted to help. He was her righthand man now, after all. He had to be able to do something. There had to be someone.

         “Oh!” Lance shouted, breaking the depressive air in the room. “I got it!” Before he could be questioned he was rushing out the door.

        Lance returned with a confused Ulaz in tow. Without giving him a chance to argue, he pushed him through the crowd and into Blue.

 

        It wasn’t that Ulaz undervalued himself. He knew he was a highly trained individual with many skills to offer the resistance.  He understood he was part of something important. That being said, he also understood he was a small part in these efforts. He had been ready, his entire life, to die for something more important than himself when duty called upon him to.

        Stepping into The Blue Lion felt like he’d stumbled off the path laid out for him. The walls had seemed so high, guiding him the same direction every other member of the Blade of Marmora was prepared to walk. He did not spend time deciding what his path would be, only how to continue as long as he could on the one he was destined for. He had known what the end would be to that path.

        Ulaz sat down in the pilot’s chair and reached for the controls. This wasn’t meant for him. The screens ahead of him lit up and Blue roared to life around him. The walls guiding him fell away. New paths, new questions and decisions, new duties opened all around him. It was terrifying.

        Ulaz stepped out to cheering. The Earthlings were enthusiastic and a smile crept onto his lips, despite his better judgement. His eyes caught on Allura. The princess walked up to him with purpose and he schooled his features into calmness.

         “Ulaz,” she said sternly, and thrust a hand out to him. He let out a huff of relief and reached out as well, clasping her arm as she clasped his. “It’s a pleasure to have you on the team.” Looking down at their arms, held together, his nerves eased. To have a Galra and an Altaen piloting lions when Voltron came back would be a powerful symbol.

         “Awesome. So, now that that’s settled” Lance said, casually walking over. “Keith is part Galra and has a Blade, so how about we get him a Trial or something, get him working with The Blade of Marmora, now that his Lion has upgraded.”

         “Keith is what?” Pidge and Hunk shouted, but the shock was short lived.

         “Okay, no that makes a lot of sense,” Hunk said.

         “Yeah, yeah,” Pidge nodded.

         “Why does that make sense?” Keith asked, looking a little ruffled between the surprise announcement and the judgmental whispering. He calmed a little when his eyes met Ulaz’s.

         “I will talk to Kolivan about a Trial for you both,” he noted. Keith and Lance nodded, a spark of excitement in their eyes, but noting a particular hunger in Keith’s. The young Earthling was part Galra, and Ulaz had a few suspicions on his own looking at the pale little creature now. He was not purple, but her certainly had a look about him that was not entirely unfamiliar.

        “That is all well and good, but first,” Allura said, interrupting Ulaz’s thoughts, “Let’s form Voltron.” She smiled a little as she got cheers and the new Paladins rushed to their Lions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who's here for Black Paladin Allura? Blue Paladin Ulaz? Yay or nay, How you guys feeling??
> 
> Also, I might add a short Epilogue after the final chapter? But main fic closes up next chapter!
> 
>  **Next Chapter Preview** : Trials and proclamations.


	15. Lance of Marmora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Finally that sweet, sweet title Chapter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you guys that have been reading, kudoing, bookmarking, and commenting, _thank you_! It's been amazing hearing form you guys! (particularly for my first venture out of shipping territory, haha)  
>  This fic ended up MUCH more involved than I intended, but you guys have been awesome and kept me going writing it ♥
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it! As always, I love hearing what you all think!

        Forming Voltron had… taken a few tries. Flying ships in formation over and over shouldn’t have been so exhausting, but when the squad came back in, they felt like collapsing. Helmets were tossed off and tired high fives were shared. Luckily Lance had prepared the aliens present for such festivities. Ulaz and Allura were ready to high five with the best of them.

        The celebration was short lived, though, as Blade members closed in on them in the docking bay. Ulaz recognized Antok’s unit right away. Heading them now was Kolivan. Without ceremony, a corpse was tossed down in front of the celebrating group. It looked mangled, but the Blade had done little to it. Lance recognized the creature, and a coldness spread through his veins. That thing had come for Keith and him on the battle field. It had killed his friend. Glancing around he noticed most people’s eyes averted, mouths covered. Shiro, though, stood stiff shouldered and stared at the thing intensely.

         “What is _that_?” Coran broke the silence to demand. He looked disgusted, recognizing the unnatural contortions of the creature.

         “We are here to discuss that exact question,” Kolivan said, his mask disappearing. “Ulaz?” he asked, looking to the Galra, now dressed in Paladin armor. He didn’t look surprised at the question, even if he was.

         “Thace will need to be contacted. He has been working closely with Haggar’s priests, collecting data on their activities,” Ulaz replied.

         “There were creatures like that,” Shiro said, all eyes turning to him, “In the facility you worked in,” he said to Ulaz, despite his eyes not leaving the creature. There was an unspoken fear behind his strong and even voice. A fear of what he could have become. Matt’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing it. Shiro finally looked away from the thing, nodding to Matt.

         “The ones I saw to were not like this,” Ulaz corrected, “And my information on the patients treated by the Priests was… limited,” he said regretfully. Shiro nodded.

         “This cannot stand,” Allura’s voice rolled out of the back of the group, where she’s hung, keeping her distance from the creature.

         “Allura?” Lance asked. She shook her head violently.

         “That thing… that is not how alchemy should be used,” she said, the strength of her voice only emphasized by the quiver of passion and anger in it. “We need to act. We have Voltron. We have an army. We have information. It is time that we sent a message to Zarkon.”

         “What sort of message?” Kolivan asked.

         “A Declaration of War,” Allura said, stepping forward. Kolivan considered her for a moment, and nodded. She turned then to Shiro.

         “I’ll inform the Coalition and convene the council,” he said. The group dispersed, but Ulaz did not leave with the other Paladins. Instead he followed after Kolivan.

 

         “Ulaz, he isn’t Galra,” Kolivan said, his voice tired before he argument even began.

         “Antok’s Galra heritage was 8 generations back. Many of our recruits have only a small portion of Galra blood,” Ulaz countered, matching the commander’s fast steps through the hall.

         “Yes,” Kolivan agreed, stopping sharply and turning on Ulaz. “But it _is_ there. The Earthling can not even transform a Blade. How will he ever _be_ one?”

         “Antok gave him his dagger. It is tradition to let him take the Trial,” he said.

         “It is also Tradition for Galra to be responsible for Galra actions,” Kolivan said, his voice rising. “We do not ask outsiders to die for our brother’s sins,” he growled out. A long pause followed.

         “Outsiders have been dying because of what our people do for 10,000 years, Kolivan. Our order has not seen a day without alien blood on our conscious since before the Altaen War.” Ulaz shook his head, “We cannot pretend we have taken responsibility for The Empire’s actions. That is no excuse.”

         “He cannot be prepared to die if he is a Paladin of Voltron,” Kolivan countered.

         “Then neither can I.” Ulaz pulled out his Blade, offering it to Kolivan.

         “Ulaz,” his tone was warning. Ulaz sheathed the dagger.

         “He has proven his skills and trustworthiness,” he said. “And he has been more useful to this order than almost any of us can boast. He brought the first lion to us. His kin have united the Resistance Forces and brought the other lions together. He has already fought with us. Let him earn the dagger.”

        Kolivan let out a growling huff from his nostrils. “There is a reality in which you do not torment me, Ulaz, and I envy the Kolivan who lives in a world where every decision he makes is not questioned.”

         “In any universe, you can be assured, I have pursued truth until death,” Ulaz said.

         “A pain in my ass until death, you mean,” Kolivan muttered.

         “The Trial?” Ulaz prompted.

         “Bring him. We will give him the Trial,” Kolivan half roared back.

         “And the other Earthling?” he asked.

         “Yes, both of them. He’s at least part Galra, to ease my conscious some,” Kolivan grumbled. He hit the open button and slammed the door in Ulaz’s face a moment later.

 

        The two Earthlings waited in the Blade base, left alone with no instruction or indication of how long the wait would be. Lance was used to this sort of thing by now. It had driven him crazy when he first stayed with the blade of Marmora. Information was never given unless it was strictly necessary. Waiting times for a captive or trainee were rarely necessary information. Keith, on the other hand, paced.

         “Chill,” Lance called over to Keith. He stopped his pacing long enough to shoot Lance a look. Lance couldn’t quite read his expression, but it was clear the suggestion was not appreciated. Lance shrugged and sat back on the couch.

        Keith was called first, which felt unfair to Lance, seeing as how he’d basically been a member of the Blade of Marmora for more than a year now. It didn’t matter. He sat back on the bench and pouted as Keith jogged away through a door at the opposite side of the room.

        The next wait was longer for Lance, as he sat there alone. Even Keith’s anxious pacing presence had been comforting in a weird way. He was mid bicycling, his legs up in the air out of sheer boredom, when his name was finally called. He realized that, despite everything, he didn’t feel prepared. As he neared the door, he recognized the Blade member waiting for him.

         “McShutupington! My man!” Lance called, oddly pleased to see his guide and babysitter from his first weeks in space. They hadn’t seen each other since he’d been assigned a squad for training.

         “My name is Regris,” the blade member corrected.

         “O-oh my gosh.” Lance was quiet for a moment. “He can _speak!_ He has a _name!_ ” He put a hand to his heart, as if brimming with emotion. Regris took in a long even breath and sighed it out again.

         “Good luck,” he said. He offered his arm out. Lance took it. “Don’t die, unless you must.”

         “Thanks, I’ll… take that to heart,” he said with a chuckle. The grip tightened then disappeared. Regris McShutupington stepped aside. Lance looked at the door, where his Trial awaited him. They nodded to one another and Regris pushed it open for him. The light from the other side leaked in, bright and blinding as he stepped through.

 

        Light washed over him, searing through the thin protection of Lance’s eyelids. The world around him was soft and yielding. He let every bit of air out of his lungs in one long, quiet breath. His eyes opened with the next inhale, reluctant but knowing the light meant it was time.

        Lance cringed against the morning sun. The room was empty, but he was sure his mom must have thrown the curtains open to suggest her lump of a son get out of bed. He sat himself up and yawned. The sound of it was eaten by the heavy peacefulness filling the quiet room.

        He could have slept in. He didn’t feel like he was quite done dreaming yet. The plot in his head hovered around the periphery. It faded further every time he thought to look at it. It didn’t matter. He picked up the dagger from where it sat, under his hand on the soft mattress. He set it on the night stand and got up to stretch.

        Lance started to the door and paused. He reached back to the night stand and pressed the dagger to his hip. It stayed.

        Lance didn’t remember being so light on his feet. Nothing creaked, not even that one board he’d long ago learned to avoid when sneaking out of his room. The world remained quiet. Lance walked down the stairs, to the kitchen, plates laid out for breakfast. When had Lance gotten so used to the quiet? His house wasn’t quiet. In the kitchen there was no sounds of the microwave chirping, no clattering dishes or arguing siblings. There was no humming even, the sound of waking up first and having a moment alone with his mother.

        When had everything become so quiet? He looked back up the stairs, but they were darkened. He wasn’t supposed to go back upstairs. He was supposed to go forward

        The kitchen flashed with light, it seemed to shudder and flicker. Sounds of life burst around him and he turned sharply. Luis, his brother, brushed past him, a clatter of silverware in his wake as he snagged a plate, and shouted he was taking it upstairs to study.

         “It is time for eating, not studying. What will stick in your head if you don’t already know it?” chided his mother’s voice. Lance turned to the stove to see her rounding the corner with a mug in hand.

         “Are you telling me not to study?” Luis said with a cheeky grin, a suaver version of Lance’s. Lance would be that charming one day.

         “I’m telling you that if you’re going to stay on campus all night, you might as well not come home just to eat and make me worry you’re going to fail all your classes,” she said, relinquishing the coffee, but not without a scathing look.

         “Ah, Mama, wouldn’t you miss me?” he asked.

         “Of course, who else would ignore me _four times_ when I asked them to do the dishes?” she said. She kissed his cheek, muttering disapproval at his clothing. It flickered like a lightning storm raged outside, but the kitchen was still bathed in morning light.

        Veronica slid the door open dramatically. “The car is out of gas. Who brought it home out of gas? I’m not filling the tank again,” she informed, holding the keys up for the responsible party. When they weren’t claimed she set them on the counter with a loud clack.

        This had happened already. He’d lived this day already.

         “I did the oil change, I don’t have to bring it home with gas,” Luis insisted.

         “Tsh, that was a year ago! I did the last oil change. Fill the car up,” Veronica demanded. They squabbled and decided they needed another car, which their mother pointedly ignored as she poured another cup of coffee.

        No. Lance hadn’t lived this. He was rediscovering each moment, like he’d dreamt about this. Why would he dream about waking up to his family squabbling? Why did every moment feel so well worn? Like he’d dreamt it over and over.

        He reached for a piece of toast. Breakfast wasn’t a heavy meal in the household.  There was always toast, some fruit, coffee or tea. The meal could come with an egg upon request. Lance just needed toast and coffee that was more creamer than not, though.

        A shoulder butted into his, and a hand shot out to snag the toast before he could. Lance launched himself forward to get to it first. He felt the collar of his shirt tug back as Marco caught it and hauled him away from the toast. He shot a glare at his little brother. He’d always been larger than Lance, in sheer mass, but now he was taller too. It was honestly rude of him, as a little brother, to be taller. He’d lost the upper hand too quickly.

        He was being pulled back towards a headlock and this had happened before. He didn’t get the toast. He just wanted some toast. Without thinking, Lance twisted around, leaning into the arm grabbing him. He ducked and planted his feet and yanked the arm hard, sending his brother flying over his head and flat onto his back on the kitchen floor.

        The room went still as his mind went silent. He had just thrown his brother over his shoulder like nothing, like he’d been trained to fight opponents that loomed over him and outweighed him. He stared at his brother on the ground and didn’t feel triumph or guilt, but confusion. The kitchen was so quiet.

        Laughter burst out around him.

        It was wrong.

        The light outside the door flashed brighter and the laughter became distant. The explanations and hands patting his back and his mother’s voice scolding, all became distant as everything focused on the sliding door. The world outside flashed with far off fires and explosions. The little fenced in backyard was torn down to show the burnt and crumbled remains of the world around the little house. Far off a bomb hit the ground and the world flickered again. This time it rumbled as well, the silverware clattering and glasses clinking.

        Lance grabbed the dagger at his side and rushed to the door, his heart aching. He’d dreamt this before. He’d dreamt just waking up to nothing special so many times. He threw the glass door open and rushed through it, and everything went black.

        No, not black. Just dark. His eyes slowly adjusted from the morning light to the perpetual dimness of the Galra ship. When he could see well enough he assessed his surroundings. The room was large and empty, but Lance recognized the lines on the floor. When the doors opened, his eyes were already trained on them.

        Four Blade members rose into the room. They each took fighting stances, and Lance matched them. They had let him keep his Bayard, but he only held Antok’s Dagger. It felt wrong to use anything else, even as four Blades transformed in Galra hands.

        Lance stepped forward and one broke off to the left. Lance ignored the ploy to follow, but kept his movements under consideration. Instead he moved to the main group. He’d bested trainees before. He could manage three if he was determined enough, he thought.

        He charged one, throwing him off balance long enough to force him down. He snatched at the second’s belt, twisting a release and pulling out a grappling cord. He dashed and rolled away from a blade that swung down, ruthlessly swift. Leaping up to his feet, he dashed back the other way. The second Blade member clicked her grappling cord to retract, just in time for Lance to lock the small glowing end onto the first. The cord retracted swiftly, snapping the two Blade member’s together.

        Lance ducked out of the way and raised his dagger in time to avoid a blow coming down at his head. He dropped and swept his foot out behind him, sending a dagger lost in the collision skittering to the opposite side of the arena. The opponent above him pressed him, his balance weak from the maneuver.

        Lance let himself be shoved to the ground, falling back faster than his attacker anticipated. He kept his legs free as he did. The Galra had height on him, sure, but his legs were long for any species. He snaked them around the bulky torso and flipped them. He let the muscled form hit the ground hard, and sprang up, momentarily attacker free.

        The fight began in earnest then. His initial two targets had untangled themselves and charged him. He’d drilled for these situations. He was ready. Ready did not mean he came out unscathed. Winning a fight sometimes required sacrifices, and with three opponents, he made quite a few. He would come out of this as bruised and battered as his first day of training.

        By the time he had managed to neutralize the three opponents, he had nearly forgotten about the fourth prowling the sidelines. Nearly. When the figure swooped in, the size helped him get closer than he might have otherwise. Lance swung around to meet the blade with his dagger, just barely with enough time to throw the swing aside.

        The Blade member was only as tall as him, and felt petite after the hulking forms he had been fighting moments ago. He made up for size in fierceness. An unceasing barrage of attacks followed, leaving Lance stumbling back, only able to defend against the onslaught. There were no openings, not because of technique, but by the sheer number of attacks that came at him.

        Lance managed to sneak in close enough to graze his attacker’s hand. His triumph was short lived, when instead of dropping the blade, he simply traded it to his opposite hand and continued. A tick of irritation rose in Lance. That had been a good hit. He felt cheated by the ambidextrous opponent.

        The fight went on with neither gaining much headway, only growing more exhausted. He shoved away, backing up quickly just to gain some breathing room. He watched the Blade member shake out his wrist and his irritation rose. He recognized the gesture. He’d seen it a million times coming out of the simulator with scores blowing his out of the water.

        He didn’t wait to cool down. He didn’t think about his attack plan. He rushed forward. Of course, Keith was already a Blade member. They probably didn’t even ask him to audition, just gave him a suit and said, ‘Now wait for Lance and beat him up’. Because, no matter what Keith said, that’s how it always went.

        He kept charging Keith, pushing him back, and kept swinging. He ignored the other three fighters slowly picking themselves and their weapons back up. He ignored the strain building in his shoulder as he slammed the dagger against Keith’s blade. He attacked again and again until his dagger didn’t meet with the clang of metal.

        Keith’s blade disappeared as Lance’s strike came, letting his dagger sail clearly into Keith, just below his shoulder. Lance yanked the weapon back in shock, Keith’s weapon clattering down to the ground as he dropped to grab his wound.

        The blood rushing out looked too dark. The mask flickered. A purple face was there instead of Keith’s as he crumpled forward. Lance dropped to catch him. The wound was deep. It had to be closed.

        Lance leapt away from the wounded Galra when the other three swooped in. He fended them off and tried to return to the fallen alien. He only had a moment before he was back to defending himself. In the few seconds between fighting he continued to try to stop the bleeding, but he never had enough time. He growled in frustration as he was forced to step away time and again.

         “At least take him out of here, if you aren’t going to let me stop the bleeding,” Lance cried, as he ducked and dodged attacks. He felt like he barely had enough breath to get the words out. No answer came from any of his attackers. He groaned out a war cry as he plunged back into the fray.

        At the next pause, Lance looked down to the wounded blade member and their eyes met. To Lance’s shock, the alien spoke.

“There is no leaving until you forfeit, die, or learn,” he informed. That meant for all of them. That meant for the bleeding alien.

         “Fuck that,” Lance said, the words coming out as little more than vitriol in his gasping puffs of breath.

        He swung his first attacker into his second and spun around and onto his knees next to the wounded Blade member. He pulled out his Bayard for the first time. It formed something smaller than his usual weapon, a compact shape that looked more like what Pidge had managed with the Green Bayard before Matt had taken it back. Just on top of the handle, blue energy fizzled across the edge. Without hesitation he pressed the weapon to the wound, cauterizing it. It wasn’t the best solution, but healing pods could fix the damage as long as the guy didn’t bleed to death.

        He stood up, as the other combatants rounded on him.

         “Victory or death is The Empire’s saying, not ours,” Lance said to them. He lifted his dagger up between them. It felt heavier now. His limbs were starting to shake with fatigue. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been fighting. “We die for Knowledge, right? We kill for Truth, not victory,” he said, gripping the dagger in his hand tighter. Antok had taught him about The Blade of Marmora, and what it meant to be one. He had taught him the difference between them and The Empire. “He’ll die seeking truth, not for _my_ glory,” he informed.

        Lance was so concentrated on the three approaching, he didn’t notice that the injured member had stood up until he felt his arm being yanked around behind his back, the dagger dropping out of it. Before he could retaliate he was on the floor, his face smashing into the hard metal with a rush of dizziness. He was pinned there as the others circled around. “Knowledge or death,” the wounded alien said, before putting him in a choke hold. His vision flickered. He strained for the dagger just out of reach. His hand weakened, his vision faded.

 

        Lance woke up with a pounding headache and an aching jaw. His face felt like a balloon, throbbing not just on the side that had collided with the floor but everywhere he’d been hit during the fight. He had _not_ been put in a healing chamber. He groaned and sat himself up on the hard metal surface.

        He saw Ulaz first, but the man backed away instantly when it was clear he wasn’t going to fall back over. Kolivan took over his view.

         “We cannot make you a Blade,” he informed. Lance felt his shoulders drop along with his head. His throbbing head felt all the more insulting. Kolivan’s expression became grimmer, and Lance was sure it was because he was making a face. He didn’t try to correct it. “You cannot transform a Blade. You cannot _be_ a Blade,” he said grimly.

         “I understand,” he said, despite the irritated voice in the back of his head shouting ‘then why did you let me take the test?’.

         “You are not suited for our cause,” he went on. “You are not responsible for our Burdens. You are not-,”

         “ _I get it_!” Lance interrupted in a sharper voice than he intended. He was staring down. They hadn’t taken Antok’s Blade from him. It sat in his lap, just a dagger. There was a short silence before Kolivan picked up talking again.

         “You are not, and can never be of the Blade. We are a single sword, and must swing together. Your destiny lies beyond the path of our Blade. Despite these incongruities…” he went on slowly and deliberately. Lance’s eyes shot up to him. “The Blade of Marmora would have you as a brother in arms.” Kolivan looked back to Ulaz and nodded, stepping back and letting him take his place in front of Lance.

         “Lance, you were the first to reawaken the Lions of Voltron. You have bound together the forces of change in the universe. Your reach goes far beyond that of The Blade of Marmora. Rather than of the Blade, you are the spear that pierces further, and, if you will take the title, the Lance of Marmora,” he said. Lance sat in stunned silence for a long moment.

         “Ulaz… did you just make a _joke?_ ” Lance asked, his voice rising. “Did you just induct me into a twelve _thousand_ year old order with a _pun_?” he asked, eyes wide.

         “We thought it would be appropriate, given your demeanor,” Ulaz said simply, with a nod. A grin broke out over Lance’s face. He instantly remembered the beating his it had gone through, but the pain was worth it.

         “Oh… wow… can I get the biggest bag of frozen peas _ever_ and just have it laid over my entire body please?” he asked. The two Galra exchanged looks.

         “And the offer?” Ulaz pressed.

         “Oh! Yeah! Of course,” Lance said, perking up a little. He grabbed the dagger out of his lap and hesitantly offered it out. “Since I’m not a Blade, technically,” he noted.

        Kolivan shook his head. “It was given, and it was earned.”

        Lance nodded, pulling Antok’s dagger, _his_ dagger, back to his lap. “Thank you.”

         “This is not a gift,” Kolivan informed. “It is a responsibility. Keep the dagger as a reminder of the ideals you will live by.” Lance nodded.

         “We can heal you now,” Ulaz noted after a moment.

         “Oh, thank god,” Lance sighed with relief, wobbling off the bench. He barely kept his legs under him as he was taken to the healing pods.

 

        The first person to greet Lance, stepping out of the pod, wasn’t Ulaz, or any of the medical staff. Instead the first face he saw, as he stretched and yawned and remembered he was ‘Lance of Marmora’, was Keith. He was dressed in a Blade outfit, but the hood was down and he had pulled his horrible red jacket over it.

        Keith leapt up as soon as Lance stepped out, taking a half step towards Lance, then stopped sharply. They made awkward prolonged eye contact, for good measure, before either of them spoke.

         “I’m guessing they made you a Blade?” he said, gesturing to the outfit. “Or are you protesting by refusing to take off the get up?” he asked.

         “Oh!” Keith said, as if he didn’t expect them to talk, but instead just stare at each other indefinitely. “Yeah. I don’t know if I passed with flying colors but I guess they’ve accepted me.” Lance nodded. Keith nodded. They made somehow _more_ awkward not eye contact, looking at everything but each other.

         “So…” Keith said, but clearly had nowhere to go with the starter as he petered out almost immediately.

         “Okay.” Lance’s voice rang out sounding irritable, as he walked over. Keith felt nervous as the other teen stalked over, usually this was when they got into a fight. “Look. I’m clearly not getting rid of you any time soon,” he said. “And… I guess maybe, now that we’re working together--,” he cut off for a moment, his eyes darting to Keith then back away. Keith waited, not sure where Lance was going, but not willing to interrupt him.

         “People change,” Lance announced. Keith blinked, confused but luckily Lance went on. “I get that. We’re all different people, constantly. I mean, hell, I’m probably made up of more space stuff than earth stuff now. So… You’re a different Keith and I’m a different Lance,” he finally managed to look at Keith. “We’re Paladins of Voltron now, even if your run was a little short. Brothers of the Lion Bots? We’re Brothers of Marmora at least,” he laughed a little, “Whatever we are, we’re here to defend the universe… together.”

         “Yeah,” Keith agreed, slowly nodding. He didn’t think he’d changed that much, but looking back over the year he’d spent with Pidge and Hunk, he must have. He felt different after having them in his life, after getting off Earth, after finding Shiro and Answers. Maybe he _was_ different. He might not be everything he was supposed to be yet, but he was closer.

         “So…” Lance shoved his hand out between them. “I’m Lance. Sharpshooter of the Blades of Marmora. Paladin of Voltron.” He introduced himself so straight forwardly that it made Keith smile a little. He reached over, grasping the hand. Lance had a good grip, his long fingers wrapped around Keith’s and they gave a proper shake.

         “I’m Keith,” he replied. He didn’t know what else to add, so Lance filled in for him.

         “Ace pilot. Friend of Voltron. Mysterious and most talented one upper of all time,” Lance said. Keith snorted.

         “Sure, all that,” he agreed. “Uh… it’s a pleasure,” he tagged on, awkwardly. Suddenly Lance was grinning.

         “Awesome to meet you for the first time ever!” he said, his fingers finally loosening and letting their hands drop. He took a deep breath, as if the air were fresh and new. “Good,” he announced after an upbeat pause.

        He flopped down on the couch behind them and relaxed completely for the first time while Keith was in the room. It really did feel like he was meeting a completely different person. Maybe this was Hunk’s Lance, that he thought was a cool guy, instead of the one that Keith had only known for glaring or shouting at him for no reason.

         “Hey, buddy. You gonna stand all day, or are you gonna sit down with me?” he asked, and Keith realized he’d been staring for an awkward amount of time, just trying to take in this new Lance. He sat down.

         “Tell me three things about yourself,” Keith demanded.

         “What?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

         “I don’t know you, right? We’re dropping all our assumptions. So, tell me three things about you that are true,” he explained.

        Lance hesitated. “You have to give three also, then,” Lance said.

         “Sure,” Keith agreed easily. He didn’t know what he planned to say, but that was a few minutes from now Keith’s problem.

         “Okay, hmmm….” Lance leaned back, head tilting and staring up at the ceiling. Keith watched his profile as he thought, expression shifting as he dug for some good Lance Facts.

         “It doesn’t have to be important. Just… anything,” Keith suggested. When he thought about it, he didn’t want it to be important. He was looking for frivolous things like his favorite color and the name of his pet goldfish.

         “I got this. I got this,” Lance insisted, waving his hand. It was strange how… relaxed he seemed. Keith still felt some bristling tension. He was still ready for the other shoe to drop and Lance to decide they were fighting. It’d happened every other time he was in the same room as Lance. It seemed like he’d really taken this ‘new start’ thing to heart, though.

         “Well, to start I’m the cool ninja sharpshooter of this operation,” Lance bragged, his smile becoming a smirk. Keith rolled his eyes, but it was odd to hear Lance brag without it being a shot at him at the same time. It was almost charming when it wasn’t trying to one up him.

         “Are you joking?” Keith did his best to hide the smile, but he could feel himself failing.

         “I thought we’d never met before!” Lance retorted.

         “Give me three things I don’t already know about you,” Keith pressed, “That was in your introduction. And anyway, I’ve clearly seen that much since we’ve been in space.” Lance turned away a bit, almost looking embarrassed. When he looked at him again, his grin back in place and seeming somehow more intense than before.

         “Good to know you can at least see talent when it’s right in front of you,” Lance said. “All right, so nothing about how amazing a pilot I am either then I guess. Or how handsome and charming I am. You clearly already know that too,” he said. Keith considered arguing for a moment, but Lance’s face looked a little red and Keith decided on a different course of action.

         “Yeah. I already know all that. So, tell me something less obvious.” Keith was rewarded with Lance’s face turning a brighter shade of red and he suddenly burst into laughter, smacking Keith’s shoulder.

         “I like new Keith! He’s a charmer!” Lance said. Keith just waited for his laughter to die down, a little quiet smile on his face as he did. “Okay. Fine. Three things, let’s go,” he cracked his knuckles as if this were a hard task. “I’m one of twenty-three cousins of whom I’m the perfect dead center average of their ages. Down to the day. Impressive, I know.”

         “Very,” Keith agreed. It kind of was. Seemed like weird odds going on there. Lance was encouraged and went on.

         “I once beat Hunk at arm wrestling,” he offered. Keith gave him a skeptical look. Hunk could pick him up and toss him across the room. Lance was not a total noodle anymore, but he was no Hunk. “Okay,” Lance broke. “It was thumb wrestling,” he said. Keith still gave him a skeptical look. “I have agile and powerful thumbs!” Lance assured, throwing his hands up and wiggling them aggressively.

         “Okay,” Keith said, throwing his hands up in acceptance.

         “Uhm…..” Lance paused, at a loss for a third.

         “You were the only person in our year to apply for the Piloting Program before me,” Keith offered.

         “What?” Lance asked.

         “When I first went to the academy, Shiro was teasing me for being over eager,” Keith explained, “But when I finally got my paperwork turned in, he told me he was disappointed. I wasn’t even the first person to apply.” Keith sighed dramatically, “You were always one step ahead of me.”

        Lance laughed, “Well, tough shit for me seeing as how I didn’t get in until you stormed out to be a desert hermit.”

         “Have to give the less than perfect a chance now and again,” Keith said with a light shrug. Lance froze for a long moment, then lit up.

         “Is serious business Keith making jokes now?” he asked, delighted. Galra’s surprising him with an actual sense of humor today.

         “People are always so surprised,” Keith said, frowning, “I _make_ jokes. It’s not like I never make jokes.” He couldn’t keep the frown going, though, because Lance was giggling. The sound was too happy for it not to be contagious.

         “Okay, that’s my three. What about you?” Lance said, calming down.

         “That was really only two, since I gave you the last one,” Keith argued, but instead of pressing for a third, he thought for a moment. “I don't remember my mother,” he said, and Lance stared at the admission. “I just remember something… enormous and protective. Beautiful and strong. And then it was gone. And I never really felt safe after that…” he said. “My father felt it too, I think. Most of my early years, I just remember him chasing something. He stopped at some point. I guess when I started getting into trouble at school and he realized I needed some attention. He stayed home more after that, but I think his restlessness is what made me so anxious staying still.” Keith hands found the dagger at his side and fiddled with it, a comfort to have it there.

         “Then I went to the Garrison. So, he didn’t need to be around for me and he-I think he just went back to that searching. Those last few years he fell deeper and deeper into it, like he was being pulled forward, like time was running out...” he paused. “So, then after he passed away, and Shiro disappeared, I knew I had to do something. That's why I ended up in the desert. There was something in that desert and I was supposed to find it,” he looked to Lance.

         “And then _I_ didn’t even find it, _you_ did. But I suppose if you hadn’t, I never would have gotten here. If Hunk hadn’t been so determined to find you,” he said, “Oh, but that’s about you, uhm, was that three about me?” Keith asked, trying to recount what he had actually said.

         “Uh…” Lance hesitated.

         “My favorite energy drink is the ones they only had in the West Dorm’s vending machines. The blue ones. Pidge and I may have broken into the Garrison over the summer to steal a case to take with us,” he offered.

         “Did you really buy 100 cans of the same soup?” Lance asked. Keith’s eyes fluttered in confusion at the question.

         “It was 36 cents a can for the star chicken noodle…” he replied.

         “Oh my god!” Lance cried, snorting.

        Keith was flustered. “Okay, that counts as three then?”

         “Yeah! Yeah, that was a lot more intense than mine…” Lance replied.

         “I wanted you to understand me, I guess, since we’re starting fresh…” he said with a shrug.

         “I feel like I gotta redo mine, now” he replied.

         “No… yours were good. They told me what I needed to know,” he assured.

         “What? How?” Lance frowned at the assumption.

         “They told me what you care most about, your family, your friends, and your dreams,” Keith replied, stunning Lance into silence.

         “Uh… yeah,” Lance nodded, a little bewildered. He hadn’t intended for them to be so revealing.

         “Keith.” The door at the head of the room had slid open, and a figure waited for him. Keith was already on his feet, and so was Lance.

         “Good luck,” he said. “Don’t let them give you shit. They look scary but they’re a bunch of push overs.”

         “I’ll see you all soon,” Keith replied. They shook hands and Keith left.

 

 

        Allura had fussed over her outfit, her hair, her speech, everything except the production portion which Coran insisted he had covered. Nerves pulsed through her as she watched the leaders of The Resistance Fighters, The Blade of Marmora, and the Paladins of Voltron, gather. It had all happened in such a flurry of activity that it didn’t feel like only a little over a week had passed. It was enough time for things to settle.

        Lance and Keith had apparently come to terms, though now Lance seemed to tease Keith for sport rather than with malicious intent. Pidge and Matt had settled their dispute for now. Pidge had used every connection at their disposal to start creating a custom suit to replace the one she’d relinquished to her brother. Allura had had too much else going on to worry about the ‘improvements’ Pidge was making to the Green Lion. At least she had Hunk watching over her for any larger construction. Allura had already learned to trust his sense of caution, as well as his cooking skills.

        Shiro continued to refuse to step into the Black Lion. Allura wanted to know if she would eventually be able to pass it to him. He had insisted they would know if and when the time came. He led the Rebels well, at least. His connection to Keith offered an ease of communication with the Blade of Marmora, particularly with Ulaz spending most of his time with Team Voltron.

        Everything had fallen into place well, but Allura still felt incomplete looking at the scene. Her fists clenched at her sides and she tried to bolster her confidence. She wanted to feel like the leader this team deserved. She should feel the strength and certainty that they did in all their found roles. She felt empty handed. It was an unusual feeling for a princess trained in diplomacy and war.

         “Princess,” a voice said softly from behind. She turned to Coran, who stood oddly at ceremony just outside the doorway.

         “Yes? What is it?” she asked, her nerves easing a little at the familiar face.

         “Come with me,” he said. Allura hesitated, looking back out to the gathering.

         “It’ll just take a tick,” he insisted, waving her away. She followed after him, not questioning as he led her away from the hanger bay. It wasn’t long until she realized they were going to the holodeck.

         “I don’t need this…” she insisted, as they stopped in front of the door.

         “You’ve already come this far, just go in,” Coran suggested, opening the door for her.

        The inside wasn’t the scenic fields of Altea on a perfect mid-tilt day. It wasn’t the conference halls of the old Castle where she had met for advice with her father’s program. It was not even her personal quarters where she’d sat in need of courage and a familiar face. She stepped into the Royal Armory.

        Her father materialized from Blue ghostly outlines. Despite the surroundings, he lacked his usual armor. He stood in simple soft flowing garments, like her royal garb. He was white and blues and golds, with a proud clasp of red.

         “Hello, my daughter,” he said, his voice the soft comfort she had always known.

         “Father,” she replied, wearing a smile.

         “You come looking ready for battle,” he said, appraising her outfit. She wore the Black Paladin’s armor, her hair tied back into a tight knot.

         “We are preparing to declare war. We should look prepared to fight,” she informed. Her father nodded.

         “I see,” he said, turning away from her and looking over the weapons. She looked over them as well, feeling the lack of the Bayard all the more keenly.

         “I cannot linger long,” she said.

         “Let me give you a gift.” She nodded, despite knowing everything in the room was generated to look and feel real, but none of it was. He stepped through the room carefully and thoughtfully. In the end, he found his own armor, the armor he wore before the war, before Voltron or the Paladins had existed. It stood like a symbol of what once was, of Altea of old.

        He pulled the sword from the display, bright and gleaming. Without thought, she knelt as he returned. He smile down at her and knelt as well, hilt in his hand and tip of the blade pressed to the floor between them. Allura looked up, past the hilt and hand between their faces, to see her father staring back at her.

         “Daughter,” he said, “Princess Allura of Altea, Black Paladin of Voltron.” She felt her heart swell. He waited and she reached up to grasp the hilt, her hand over her father’s. His smile split wider and he pulled up his second hand, cupping it over hers, as he slipped his first out. She tightened her fingers around the grip. Both of her father’s held her hand there for a long moment.

        He rose, releasing his hold on the sword. She held it now alone.

         “Rise, Queen Allura, Protector of the Universe,” he said. It was a small change from the words of old. She was not a protector of Altea, of the people only there. She had a larger responsibility now. “Your duties await you.”

        She stood, pulling the sword with her as she did and holding it up between them, feeling the weight of it in her hand. He stood at a ceremonial distance, approving of the transfer of title for a moment more, before he stepped in past the weapon and wrapped his arms around her. Keeping the sword in hand, she wrapped her arms around him as well.

         “I am so proud of you,” he said quietly to her and she shut her eyes to keep them dry, squeezing him harder. She took in a deep breath when she was released.

         “Thank you, father,” she said, and he graciously nodded. She turned to leave when he gestured, holding the sword tight, knowing it would vanish with everything else when she left the room. She steeled her heart for the loss as she stepped out of the door and felt the weight disappear from her hand.

        She turned to look at Coran and thank him for the suggestion, but was startled to find him waiting, a sword laid out over his hands, the sword she had lost just seconds ago.

         “Coran…” she said, in shock.

         “I found it among Former King Alfor’s things,” he explained. “It seemed time.” Allura nodded and took the sword, feeling the real weight of it this time, and the real weight of her title.

         “It’s time for my first act as Queen then,” she said.

         “All of Altea, and the free universe, stands behind you, your highness,” he assured.

 

        Kolivan had insisted that a general broadcast, through standard means, would suit their purposes. Thace thought that there was not much point in having deep undercover operatives with access to The Empire’s emergency broadcast frequencies if they could not even provide good theatrics at pivotal moments, though. The risks were, all calculated and accounted for, minimal to have the message burst onto every screen over The Galra Empire.

 

         “I am Allura, Queen of Altea, Leader of the Coalition of Resistance fighters and Black Paladin of Voltron.” Allura’s voice echoed over billions of screens throughout the universe at once. The shot was just wide enough to show the black symbol cutting across her chest.

         “I speak to you, Zarkon, to raise a challenge. Ten thousand years ago, my father scattered the pieces of Voltron so they may stay safe from your hands. They have waited all this time for worthy Paladins, and now they have been collected again.” The shot widened to include the Paladins; Lance and Ulaz at her right, Matt and Hunk her left. They had their helmets on, Bayards in hand, ready for battle. In her own hands, planted in front of her, bright and gleaming, was her father’s Broadsword, a symbol once known almost as well as the Lion’s themselves.

         “Voltron has been reformed, and will retake its place as the Defender of the Galaxy, starting with dissembling the Galra Empire. The terms for your surrender are to immediately shutdown all of the Empire’s military outposts and redact any claims to seized territories. The Empire’s military will be dissembled and weapons turned over to the Coalition, including the Black Bayard to its rightful owner.” The shot cut back further, showing a line of masked Blade members to her right, Shiro and his generals to the left. Behind them stood the Lions in a perfect line.

         “If you do not surrender,” Allura’s voice remained clear over the wide view. “We will retake each system by force.” The message cut dramatically to streaks of light and a flash, Voltron forming in the silhouette of fireworks. Through the clearing smoke, the legendary robot came into view, sword in hand, wings spread in all its glory.

        Every screen in The Galra Empire went black. Then, as if it had never happened, the screens cut back to their normal views. A stunned silence hung over the universe for a moment, and then, all at once, the stars were alight with chatter.

        Voltron had returned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! I know I didn't close up ALL the threads, and this is more a beginning than an ending, lol.  
>  **So** , I am planning to add a short Epilogue and I want to know if there's anything you guys want from it! Any lingering questions about the AU? HMU in the comments (or on [**my tumblr**](http://avagueidea.tumblr.com/)).
> 
> ALSO! Special shout out to Randy Kaguya of the Wastes, cuz they suggested Allura have her fathers Altean Broadsword, which was an amazing idea! Thank you~
> 
> Thank you all for reading! ♥
> 
>  **Epilogue Preview** : A few years into saving the universe, we check up on Lance during a covert mission.


	16. Epilogue: Espionage, Family, and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A lot has happened since the war started. Things have changed, the _war_ has changed, and it might finally be time to take a moment to visit Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys remember that epilogue I said you'd get like 9000 years ago???? Well here ya go!
> 
> Tbh I wanted to get this out there before the next season so I don't have to worry about new canon, hahaha.

         “You know, you don't look too bad purple,” Lance noted after they’d settled into the throngs of diplomats and party goers. Their methods for saving the galaxy had taken a sharp turn recently. It changed from things like, giant robots in to the death space battles and down to the wire rescues of at least one psychically linked clone from a self-destructing facility to… something less flashy. Well, looking around at the splendor of a royal banquet it wasn’t exactly _less_ flashy, but with precious stones and decorative lasers, rather than explosions and death lasers.

        There was a pause before Keith knew how to respond.

         “You know Pidge gave us Galra faces, right?” he confirmed. “this isn't what I would look like purple.”

         “Yeah, well the new face doesn't hurt either. And I still look like me. Can’t hide all this charm under some fluffy ears and yellow eyes.” Lance flashed a toothy grin, and it was odd to see Pidge’s tech-crafted Galran face patched over Lance’s cockiness. He wondered if he’s ever seen such a smug smile on anyone else in the universe, other than maybe their host for the evening.

        Speaking of, Lotor was sauntering around somewhere. Keith still wasn’t entirely sure Lance had been wrong, and they shouldn’t have locked him up until everything was sorted out. He understood they didn’t have anything to charge him with, so that would be ‘illegal’ and ‘morally questionable’. He was thoroughly suspicious,though. Lance was a little too loud about his opinions on the matter, but he couldn’t blame Lance for being protective of Queen Allura. Keith had only known her as a Force, Lance had known her before. Not that Keith could imagine there was a time Allura _wasn’t_ terrifyingly regal.

        She did seem to lose her edge on occasion around Lotor. He liked to make pretty speeches and a lot of promises. Keith thought, if Allura hadn’t had the queenship on her shoulders, if their victory over Zarkon had been any less decisive, if they had been any more desperate, Allura might have taken his words to heart with less caution. There was so much possibility in every secret he shared. Allura was cautious, but Lotor was patient. So, they played at diplomacy and treaties. They fought back the new rebels, Galra unwilling to give up their claims to honor, glory, and conquest, in joint missions.

        The newest promise, the one this whole shindig was set up for announcing, was suspicious in that it had never been mentioned before. There were whisperings that there may yet be Alteans alive aside from Allura and Coran, and Lotor if you count having Haggar as having an Altean mother. Keith was still unsure if he had been born pre or post Zarkon and Haggar’s zombification. Lance and he agreed that that mattered, but everyone else seemed to think it was distasteful to question, which is why they still had yet to get a good timeline on the subject.

        In any case, Allura was around somewhere as well, being diplomatic. Keith and Lance were infiltrating the party as Galran diplomats to gather what rumors they could. Those were the rumors they were _supposed_ to hear, of course, but that didn’t mean the information wasn’t useful. After that, they had to open the door for Pidge to do the real snooping. For now, they were just killing time until important people started to show up.

 

        Keith noticed a lively conversation across the room, that for a moment looked like a fight, but he quickly realized it was simply Vimamoris flirting. There wasn’t a huge distinction at times. His eyes trailed to see they weren’t the only couple across the room using the gala as an excuse to make romantic gestures. He spotted two aliens exchanging a greeting he’d learned in his most recent diplomatic mission, which had gone… interestingly to say the least.

         “Those two are exchanging a _very_ friendly greeting over there,” Keith noted, elbowing Lance lightly. His understanding had been that was a rather intimate sort of hand holding they were doing. He thought Lance might appreciate the scandal of it. He seemed to take a delight in gossiping about strangers at these sorts of things.

        "You can tell what they’re saying from over here?” he asked, seeming skeptical. “Wait. Can you read lips?" Lance asked and there was suddenly a gleam in his eyes. Keith blinked, confused, and then slowly nodded. He made his face as stoic as possible.

        "Of course," he assured. Lance barely contained the childish, excited grin.

        "Awesome. Good, good, quick, what are they saying?" he asked, pointing toward a group he had just left. They were all tall, brightly colored, generally female presenting aliens, congregated together. Lance had, more likely than not, been attempting a few pick-up lines on them. Keith considered his options.

        "They're discussing the food," he informed. He had to start small.

        "Food? Are you sure it's not about how delicious _I_ am?" he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Keith shook his head.

        "No, just the hor dourves," he assured, evenly. Lance pouted and it took all of Keith's composure not to break.

        "Fine.... What about them?" he asked, pointing to a further back group.

        "Who?" Keith squinted.

        "Them! With the red and white shirt, next to the short one with a flock of seagulls hair cut?” he demanded.

         “Ah, yes, well, they are discussing Voltron, actually,” he said. Lance lit up.

         “Ooo! What are they saying,” he asked in an excited, low voice.

         “Hmm, the one of the left, with the shirt. He’s saying what he thinks of the latest line up. You know, since Allura officially retired after Zarkon fell and she retrieved the Black Bayard,” he said. Lance had already been smiling, but it doubled in brightness at the information.

         “Oh, ohohohho,” Lance scooted in closer, conspiratorially. “What are they saying right now?” After Shiro’s brief but memorable stint in Black, which most people outside of team Voltron had little if any information about, Lance had taken over as the head of Voltron publicly.

         “Isn’t it the Red Paladin in the Black Lion now?” Keith said, as if talking for the alien across the hall, squinting as if concentrating on their lips. The one with the hair leaned in to whisper something, which was perfect.

         “I heard that he was originally the Blue Lion’s Pilot,” Keith went on. The man across the hall had the decency to look shocked.

         “Blue too? Then Red? Then Black? My goodness it’s like he has no idea what he’s doing,” Keith ‘relayed’. There was an insulted squawk from beside him as he went on.

         “Oh, certainly not. Did you see his outfit at the last Gala?”

         “He looked so overdressed.” Keith _certainly_ wasn’t still resentful they’d been 20 minutes late for the rendezvous with Blade intelligence because of Lance having to change his outfit _four times_. Certainly not at all.

        Lance probably should have seen Keith was losing sync with the conversation across the hall, but he was too busy being outraged.

         “My outfit was perfect,” he hissed, and glared across the room at them, “What are they saying was wrong with it?” he asked, impatiently.

         “Well, shirt guy is saying, ‘Why the colors didn’t compliment his eyes at all. And his skin looked dreadful.’ And then the other guy is saying ‘something, something… too much cologne. Oh, and ‘can you believe his hair was parted like that? It should have been parted exactly 2 millimeters to the left’,” he said.

        Lanced was halfway through an outraged gasp when he stopped and looked to Keith. Keith casually turned to look at Lance.

         “You don’t know how to read lips at all, do you?” Lance asked.

         “Did you finally notice the one-,” Keith started.

         “I noticed the one had a beak!” Lance cut in swiftly, glaring as a small smile pulled over Keith’s face. “AND my hair was perfectly parted at the last gala we went to, so they couldn’t _possibly_ be saying that,” he tagged on.

        Keith laughed at that, a full snort with a single laugh. He accepted the punch in the arm and the few shoves for his prank. Honestly, he was just glad he could read Lance now, and more importantly tease him. They had a few solid life and death bonding moments in the process of getting here, but their confrontation in the desert felt like eons ago, another life. In a way, Keith supposed, it was.

        This life made more sense to him, even if he was still getting used to it. In this life Lance and him were friends, along with Hunk, and Pidge, Matt, Shiro, Ulaz, all of them. He’d protect them, and they’d protect him. He didn’t mind the arrangement, it felt a bit like… family.

 

        Lance shoved Keith away, even as he offered him the tiny stuffed lhoken peppers that he loved at these swanky get togethers. He had to be careful. Keith was starting to get a sense of humor and he was using it for evil. Speaking of evil senses of humor, though, Pidge cut in on the secure line.

         “Transferring Green. Confirm pick up.”

        Matt’s voice responded first. He was set up in a more secure location, waiting for Pidge, “Please tell me if you've made any more modifications _now_ , not after I go into battle this time,” he requested.

         “What?” Pidge sounded offended, “I always tell you about all the modifications I make… if and when the information is relevant.”

         “It's relevant NOW,” he insisted.

         “You're being dramatic,” she countered.

         “You moved the acceleration lever to the opposite side of the console last time.”

         “Yeah and you ate all my snacks.”

         “I brought those snacks! Those were _my_ snacks”

         “Yeah, but I had licked them all so they we're clearly mine.”

         “You what?! Come on!”

        Lance snickered, and Keith had to elbow him to keep him from blowing their cover by laughing at nothing.

         “Well, then, say something funny,” Lance insisted.

         “You don’t look half bad purple,” he replied.

         “I said a joke, not a compliment,” Lance replied.

         “That _was_ the joke,” Keith said evenly. Lance’s eyes fluttered then he started laughing.

         “Okay, you are officially not allowed to spend any more time with Pidge… Ulaz too. In fact, I think Pidge needs to be quarantined,” he decided. He was smiling though.

        He was glad it was like this, that he’d taken the time to get to know Keith a little, trust him. If someone had told him back on Earth that Keith would be his righthand man in saving the universe from evil, he would have laughed. It had just made sense to have Keith come back to Red, though, when he took over Black. He was reliable, strong, and maybe, _just maybe_ even a little funny. Which made it all the worse that they were parting ways again after the mission.

         “Are you sure you can’t come to Earth with us?” Lance asked.

         “I have my mission. You’ve seen what that enriched quintessence can do, and we finally have a lead,” Keith said, dropping to a low serious tone.

         “Yeah… but it’s Earth,” Lance protested.

 

        Keith was actually surprised at the pang in his chest. Something deep in Keith agreed that he should be going home with everyone else. He was surprised he even considered it home. He had a mission. If he was being honest, which he didn't like to be on this particularly subject, it was just as much about Krolia.

        Keith hadn’t gone to space expecting to find a new family, but he had, and in more places than he’d expected. He’d found Shiro, which had been the goal, but also team Voltron, The Blade, and… his mother. How he could be surprised at anything anymore, he wasn’t sure, but that last one had still taken him off guard.

        Thace had been the one to tell him of Ulaz’s theory on his Galra heritage. Ulaz, Thace, and Krolia shared a will to follow their ideals to an extreme. It kept them close, as close as anyone in The Blade got with each other at least. That’s how Ulaz knew Krolia’s absence had taken place on Earth, and even a hint of what could have been left behind, from an ancient super weapon to… Keith.

        Thace had arranged for him to join a mission she was leading. He had remained masked, just one of six anonymous members of an infiltration squad. He’d seen her work. She was amazing at what she did, and he wished he knew if he should admire her or hate her. He wasn’t used to his feelings having such a specific target and he didn’t know how to deal with it. So he shut up and did his job.

        After that he’d started looking into her work. He wanted to know what she’d been doing that was so important. It was a childish instinct that drew him into her reports, but they soon snagged his attention for more serous reasons. He nearly missed his assignment the next day, having spent the entire night before pouring over the records and requesting more and more access to follow it deeper and deeper. There was something going on with the quintessence and she was at the precipice of figuring out what.

        That’s when he’d requested to be on her _next_ mission. She was going for answers, and chasing answers had always been his MO. He told himself as much as anyone else it wasn’t to talk to her. She’d left, there was nothing to talk about. That didn’t mean her work wasn’t important. He had settled on not telling her who he was. This was about the mission.

        A sharp prick jabbed into his shoulder and he jerked away with a yelp. He glared at Lance and the offending toothpick, now sans a row of tiny stuffed lhoken peppers.

         “Hey!”

         “Stop spacing. Are you really not coming with us?” he asked.

         “You’ll be fine without me.” Lance frowned at that, but then his expression shifted to something more mischievous.

         “Are you sure you’re not just still upset that I’m the head of Voltron?” he asked, a smirk forming slowly. They _had_ both tried Black when Allura and Shiro quit the position.

         “I’m a better sword fighter than you,” he defended his position as the Red Paladin.

         “Pssh! Maybe back in the day. Meet me in the space Denny’s parking lot and we’ll find out,” he said, stabbing his toothpick towards Keith again. Keith knocked it aside.

         “I’ll meet you at an Earth Denny’s parking lot once we’ve finished saving the universe, how about?” he offered. Lance grinned at that and snagged his hand.

         “Deal.”

        It was silly, but the bargain made him grin. They would be parting ways again soon, but it wasn’t forever. They had a date for a knife fight in a Denny’s parking lot to fulfill. Until then, he was heading to a mission of near certain death (business as usual when you’re saving the galaxy). and Lance and the others were heading Home.

 

 

        Lee was a senior now. He’d gone from being the inside man for one Gunderson-or Holt he supposed-to another. He had wondered at moments ‘why me?’, and imagined going on with his life blissfully unaware of the mess going on around him. He always ended up hating the idea. If things were happening, how could he wish he didn’t know? That wouldn’t make them any less real. So that’s how he ended up strung along, through a stubborn refusal to let himself out of the loop.

        He still wasn't sure how Pidge's mother hacked her way into his phone. The texts always said they were coming from himself, and then deleted themselves after he’d responded. He had had a moment where he had to wonder if he was going insane. Luckily, the texts were far too technical and accurate for him to have made them up, even in some sort of fugue state. No part of his brain could make up such convincing technical jargon as Mrs. Holt could spew.

        So, Lee went from lacky to the Conspiracy Theory Duo (Trio if he really believed Keith existed and wasn’t an elaborate hoax), to lacky to Hacker Mom. Her requests started out small, bits of information and detailed instructions on how to extract them. As his competence grew, so did the requests.

        He’d thought about telling her he was out when things started getting serious. She had always been very clear that his help was voluntary. Then he would think about Hunk. He’d think about Pidge and Lance and Keith disappearing too, but mostly it was Hunk. All the rest of them had ambition to get out into space. Circumstance might have accelerated their timeline for shooting themselves out into the void, but it was all of their goals. Hunk, though, Hunk did this because Lance needed him. Then he did it because Lance and Pidge and Keith all needed him. He could have been happy on Earth, but he couldn’t be happy knowing he hadn’t done everything he could when it mattered.

        So… Lee helped.

        He helped for the undercover missions to learn what the Galaxy Garrison might be hiding. He spent a summer ‘interning’ and finally getting to see the construction sites Hunk and the others had been working on. He actively thwarted government tracking when Mrs. Holt first shared the true reason for the disappearances of 3 students, and 3 more astronauts with the Garrison leadership. He held Mrs. Holt’s hand when the first shaky transmissions came from worlds unfathomably far away, and they learned that everyone was alive, but there was danger to prepare for. He somehow wasn’t arrested when Mrs. Holt came out of hiding to help with the preparations for potential intergalactic war and requested him as her salaried intern, which unquestionably outed him as her accomplice.

        Now he was standing a step behind her as the Lion shaped vessels landed and out strolled Hunk and the others with just as many aliens in tow. He was stunned when they looked older but felt silly a moment later. Of course, they did. He’d aged. He’d grown nearly a foot. He didn’t have the scars and war worn sturdiness that they’d gained, though. They felt like something mythological returning now that he saw them.

        Their importance hit him, and he shrunk behind Mrs. Holt’s shadow as well as he could. He’d been excited. In his head he’d made himself more important to them than he’d ever be to people like this. People who saved planets and galaxies. They wouldn’t have even thought of him.

        He was easy to spot, even hunched over Mrs. Holt wasn’t tall enough to hide him. As Mrs. Holt unabashedly destroyed all soberness of their important intergalactic greeting by dropping rank to grab up her children and smother them with tear ridden kisses, Lee had the attention of the whole group turn towards his hiding spot.

        Hunk found him first and to Lee’s surprise, he grinned. Every fear left him with that kind smile. Hunk scooted casually around the alternating sobbing and laughing mess that had become the Holt Family. He laid a hand on his shoulder and Lee realized he was taller, not by much, but he was.

         “So, I hear you decided to keep getting yourself into trouble even without us,” Hunk said.

         “My understanding is Pidge left a glowing review to her mother about how easy I was to manipulate,” he replied, laughing a little.

        "She says you have some talent. Ready to get into a little more trouble?” he asked, “Or do I have to get a Holt to harass you into helping us?”

         “I’m already in this deep. What’s joining an intergalactic war gonna hurt?” he said with a shrug. Hunk snorted.

         “That’s what _I_ thought, and look at where that got me,” he said with a derisive tone, but all Lee could see was a man who could save the universe, who _had_ already. He thought he wouldn’t mind any amount of trouble if he could be anything like that, one day.

 

        It was odd to see Lance and Iverson shake hands. It was odder still to see them getting along. He supposed years out in space and then returning with friendly alien armada, led by a beautiful space princess and Shirogane Takahashi would cause anyone to rethink their opinions on someone. Or maybe they’d just both grown up a little. Either way, seeing them walking off, Iverson’s arm around Lance’s shoulder as they laughed about tactics and war stories was… odd.

        Being on Earth was odd.

        He was so used to every planet he stepped on being new. Even if they came back to a planet twice, it was always running in and out too quick to feel a sense of familiarity anywhere except The Castle.

        Hunk now was faced with the aching reality that he _knew_ these grounds. He _knew_ these smells. He hadn’t realized how much he had logged away in his brain about earth until he met her again and everything was familiar. He felt like he was walking through a thick fog of never ending déjà vu. His brain struggled to understand how he could already know so much about a planet, right down to the tree Lance had fallen out of on the quad, and the loose stone in the walkway where he’d tripped his first day and thrown his lunch a good three feet into the air and could do nothing as it came back down on himself.

        It was all so painfully nostalgic it felt like it was choking him. All the time he had been away hit him, and he didn’t know how he could have left this place. He even dared to think about his family, waiting for him after all the official meet and greet stuff. He slowed next to that tree, putting a hand on it as he felt overwhelmed. He hadn’t even brought Grangran any dank space weed, she was going to be so upset with him. He wondered if he could talk Coran into taking her out on a date at least. His mind spun with just the idea of seeing them all.

         “That’s the tree I fell out of sophomore year.” Hunk turned to find Lance had broken away from the group to stare up at the tree with him. He looked like he might be feeling as wistful and overwhelmed as Hunk.

        “YEAH!” Hunk shouted, surprising them both with the abruptness.  After a startled silence, they started laughing. Then it felt better, because at least he’d finally, _finally_ gotten Lance back to Earth. So, in the end, it was all worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I still have more _could_ say, but I'm not sure if you'd all like to know anything else, lol  
>  Let me know if there are questions you guys would still like to see answered about this AU (anything from legit questions about the Paladins and plot, to "Did Grangran ever get some space booty?"). I might make a few more random updates if people are interested.
> 
> I'll still be adding to the [Making Slav Proud](https://archiveofourown.org/series/866496) series with more AUs as well. Tell me which you'd like to see continued!
> 
> HMU in the comments or on my tumblr @[AVagueIdea](http://avagueidea.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! ♥♥♥


	17. Bonus Chapter Part 1: 1000 Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has a very unfortunately blink, and things get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It's been a while!  
> I'm not sure this is the Bonus chapter anyone wanted, but I wanted to explore where this AU diverges from the Voltron canon. This is basically the explanation of that.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy these additions~

  

####  **Part 1**

 

        Shiro blinked and a thousand eyes opened at once.

        He scrambled to process the blur of visions vying for his attention. His mind screamed for him to see it all, see everything. He wanted to see it. He wanted to understand, but there was _too much_. He couldn’t. Nothing gave way, letting him focus. His mind yanked and shoved. A splinter of pain sliced through him like a shot through the temple. He shut his eyes tight, doubling over, vision swimming under his eyelids.

        The swirling slowed after a few nauseating minutes. Then it stopped. For a moment he thought he had the clarity of just one pair of eyes. He saw singular shapes, almost recognizable, but before they could take proper forms, they shut too. He was plunged into darkness.

        He opened his eyes, cautiously. He found himself able to process his surroundings again. He was in the castle, which shocked him despite knowing it was where he had been before the unfortunate blink. Some dark corner of his brain had been entertaining the idea that he’d wake up strapped down to a table, being prepped for surgery. It had happened before. He’d disappeared and found himself places he shouldn’t be…

        Shiro searched for any sign that he’d been attacked or stunned, that _anything_ was amiss, but everything was fine. He gingerly rubbed the scar on his temple that cut back into his hairline. The nausea that came with the swirling vision had faded. He felt like if he took a step, it wouldn’t take him in the wrong direction now. Then he saw the mice, peaking trepidatiously at him from around a wall, heads stacked one on top of the other.

         “Ah… I’m sorry, did I scare you?” he asked, suddenly wondering if he’d screamed. His throat felt too relaxed for that, but he probably didn’t need to scream aloud to startle the uncanny little space mice. He squatted down and the small one broke rank and scuttled over to the offered hand.

        He felt the others rankle with jealousy as the littlest clambered its way up his arm. He waited a few moments longer before the whole lot of them had assembled on his shoulder. Their nervous energy calmed in time with his own. They assured him they would protect him, not with words, but the sentiment was there.

        Space was strange enough that psychic mice hadn’t seemed a stretch to imagine. It wasn’t until the rest of the paladins found him chatting with the mice that he found out that the other humans didn’t share this connection. They mimed their way through conversations with the rest, Allura aside.

        Shiro felt defeated, despite the mice’s encouraging thoughts scampering around him as they fought for the best vantage points on his broad shoulders. It had barely been a day since they had defeated Zarkon, closer to hours, really. He hadn’t even slept, but he’d felt so relieved the fatigue hadn’t hit him yet. It did now.

        Voltron and the Coalition had won, and despite his protests, he’d been at the head of the legendary defender of the galaxy, taking Allura’s place when her Altaen magic was needed elsewhere. Not even the bizarre trip he, Allura, and Zarkon had taken to the endless stretching void of another plane of existence had dampened his spirits. He’d thought for a moment, when they’d taken out Zarkon together, when she’d claimed the Black Bayard and placed it in his hands, that maybe the mice had been right so long ago.

        Maybe if this was a onetime occurrence they still could be…

 

        Unfortunately, the problem didn’t resolve itself. He continued to periodically loose himself in spinning visions, retching if he tried to move during them, or too soon after. It was one more thing to add to his list of why he was a liability. It steeled him on his decision to pass the Black Lion on after just a single mission. He’d had no choice but to pilot her that one time, but he did have a choice after, despite anyone’s protests.

        He was a little relieved that the attacks didn’t seem to be connected to stress or combat, at least. High pressure situations didn’t trigger the sensory overload. It was, in fact, when he was most calm and relaxed that he found himself suddenly tossed headlong into the nauseated confusion.

        Soon the initial chaos after Zarkon’s defeat had ended. In its place was the false peace of Lotor’s rule. The Coalition members found themselves with a less frantic pace of life and with that came more of the strange attacks for Shiro. He started to tense when he _wasn’t_ busy, searching for tasks to fill his mind before he let himself relax and lull into the mental state where it could take over his vision. It was Matt who noticed first, as Shiro badgered the various Coalition members for updates on projects he knew hadn’t progressed when he wasn’t coming up with new ones.

         “Hey, Shiro!” Matt called, jogging over with a broad smile. “Sir,” he tagged on, just to be annoying.

         “I’m going to promote you to an admiral _just_ so you can’t sir me,” Shiro threatened. Matt’s smile only broadened. “I take it back,” he said quickly.

         “No take backsies, sir,” he said, “That’s intergalactic war time regulation—”

         “Don’t make up regulations. This is why you can’t be an admiral.”

         “This is exactly why I _should_ be an admiral. Then who would call me on it?”

        Shiro rolled his eyes, but his nervous power walk had slowed to a casual stroll, matching pace with the part time Green Paladin’s stride. He felt himself relaxing naturally in his friend’s presence. They’d spent so much time together, between the Kerberos mission and everything that had happened since, that it was no surprise that he knew how to chit-chat Shiro into submission. They walked on, talking easily.

        Then a different set of eyes started to blink open, his world started to blend and bleed away. He didn’t know if he was still walking. He lost the conversation and his balance. He could feel arms catching him, lowering him, but they felt distant. He clenched his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. The grip on him, the him here, kept the split vision from completely taking over.

        He tried to open his eyes, hoping the grounding would pull him back to himself. It didn’t. His vision was fragmented. Still, he was steadier than previous attacks. The world he was looking at could almost make sense, if he just knew what it was _supposed_ to be. His mouth started producing saliva and an unbidden heaving sensation tried to pull the contents of his stomach out. He shot a hand over his eyes and squeezed them closed tighter. The visions faded until it was just the back of his eyelids.

        There was a long silence before Matt broke it with, “Fuck.”

         “Yeah,” Shiro agreed, letting his eyes cautiously slit open. “Fuck.”

         “Are you okay?” Matt’s eyes were darting around looking for help, but Shiro reached his arm before he could call for a medic.

         “Yeah,” he insisted. He swallowed down the almost vomit and saliva. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time-,” that was the wrong choice. If he hadn’t been so dizzy, he would have known that.

         “Not the first time!?” Matt cried. He had been pulling Shiro to his feet and nearly dropped him. “How long has this been going on?”

         “It doesn’t matter. It only happens when I get too relaxed, and there’s enough to do that really shouldn’t be a problem right?” he offered with a wry smile. Matt didn’t look amused.

         “Is that why you keep bugging _everyone_ about stuff you _know_ isn’t done yet?” he asked. Shiro shrugged sheepishly. “You’ve been sleeping, right?” he pressed on.

         “Enough,” Shiro assured.

         “Okay. Nope. We’re taking you to-I don’t know. We’re taking you to Coran!” he decided.

         “Why Coran?” he asked, confused.

         “He knows all sorts of weird space maladies. Maybe you have a Ractegerian ear worm!” he shouted.

         “A racta… a what?” Shiro asked.

         “Exactly!” Matt threw a pair of finger guns at him.

         “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

         “You know who would know? Cor-,”

         “CORAN. Yeah. Yeah… okay,” Shiro cut in sharply, sighing. Matt looked pleased with himself, but Shiro didn’t like the idea of going to the castle with his problems. Gossip got around quickly among team Voltron.

         “Don’t make that face. Coran is very discreet. We’ll figure this out and it’ll just be me and Coran fussing over you,” Matt promised.

 

        Matt was a liar.

        It was not 5 minutes before 4 mice, an Altaen queen, a gaggle of teenagers plus Keith, and a curiously sarcastic robot he was told not to mind, were all shuffling around the little medical room, making a ruckus as everyone asked questions and threw out theories simultaneously. He didn’t even bother listening to them.

        At least he didn’t have to worry about things being too relaxing. His brain was buzzing with all the chatter. He didn’t have time to lapse into calmness with the cacophony around him. He could do without the poking and prodding, even if the scar wasn’t sensitive, it was still ugly and didn’t need to be pointed out quite so much. Not that he was vain but… well he might have been a _little_ vain.

        Ulaz was the last to arrive, and yet somehow miraculously punctual. Coran was just theatrically pulling on surgical gloves and announcing the only answer was to go in. Shiro was fairly sure he was joking (though it was hard to tell with Coran), but the Holts were excited enough that it might actually have happened.

         “I have news,” Ulaz interrupted. Everyone looked at him expectantly. “For Shiro,” he added pointedly. This didn’t seem to have the desired effect, so he added. “I would suggest you all leave so I may deliver it.”

        It was too blunt and polite a request to deny. The group started shuffling out, most of the griping from Coran and the Holts. Hunk shouted a pleasant, “let us know if you need anything!” as he ushered Lance out.

        Allura patted his arm comfortingly as she passed. “And no more secrets. We’re a team. We help each other,” she reminded.

         “Of course,” he agreed, a gentle smile back. It was a lie, but it was a lovingly given one.

        Then it was just him, Ulaz, and Keith lingering at the far side of the room. Keith had only spoken to discredit a few particularly ridiculous theories, but otherwise had stayed out of the ruckus. Ulaz’s eyes went to him and Shiro’s followed.

         “You could have told me,” he muttered.

        It hadn’t seemed fair to burden him with anything else though, the weight of his current duties largely Shiro’s doing already. Despite Black’s affinity for him, Shiro had only taken up the post once. When Allura tried to pass off the title permanently, and Shiro had refused, they found themselves a paladin short. Keith had been called back to team Voltron. He knew it had been unfair of him, but he was still certain it was the right thing to do.

         “I could have,” he agreed, mildly. “Ulaz has some information.” He beckoned him over, a peace offering. Keith took it.

         “Since everyone present has been briefed on the time I spent with Shiro in the experimental biomedical facility,” Ulaz started. Shiro glanced at Keith, who continued looking resolutely forward. “I won’t rehash. I was transferred for a time to a different section of the facility. When Shiro was returned, it was with no information about what had happened in that time. He was given to me for rehabilitation with the stated goal of returning him to the fighting pits. I took this opportunity to release Shiro while making my own escape.”

         “And it was about 6 months that he was out of your care,” Keith confirmed. This fact still felt strange to Shiro, he had no memory of the time except of blurred pain and fear.

         “Yes.” Ulaz nodded. His face was stoic but Shiro could see the twinge of regret there. It was the look he’d worn when he’d first apologized for the delay in Shiro’s release, the look he had when it lingered too long on the scar on his temple. “I have received information that might relate to that time.”

         “Really?” Shiro asked, anticipation prickling in his chest. He realized instantly a part of him didn’t want to hear it.

         “We were reviewing a shipping log of an imperial supply vessel we recently waylaid in the E V’hc System.” He pulled out a datapad, bringing up the relevant data and highlighting a section before turning it around. Keith and Shiro leaned in.

        _“[…] 60 Etter 4t Power Belt -Proj.Blk.0304982, 120 tank Trekon Buffer Solution -Proj.Blk.0304982, 108 Well Plate Sealables -Proj.Blk.0304982, AfinErh II Anti-fenton Fenton -Proj.Blk.0304982 […]”_

         “So… what does this tell us?” Shiro asked, while Keith was still glaring at the list pensively, trying to pars out what the shipping log had to do with Shiro.

         “During those 6 months you were listed as a material for Project 0304982,” he explained.

         “So, there are other experiments similar to mine that are still going on…” Shiro said, frowning slightly. The thought made him uneasy. Whatever had happened to him, weather he remembered it or not, shouldn’t happen to anyone else. “Where are these being shipped to?” He could feel his expression growing grimmer as fragments of memories tugged painfully at the back of his mind.

         “It was being dropped off at a waypoint, but there was no listing for a final destination. The Blade infiltrated the station and found some heavily encrypted data relating to the items. I have the Blade decoding it now. There is a possibility this will give us a location of a facility that is continuing Project 0304982.”

         “What are these items even for?” Keith asked, still searching through the list for things he recognized. Some of it were general supplies for any outpost or base, but others he had no idea what they could be.

         “If they took the time to encrypt each waypoint’s shipping instructions, they likely split up the shipments to make sure no single one gave away too much information,” Ulaz said, “but I would venture a guess that this is a research facility. They have a few items I would be surprised to find outside a laboratory.”

         “So, they’ve moved on from me and are experimenting on other people?” Shiro asked.

         “That is a possibility,” Ulaz said, nodding once.

         “But you don’t think so…” he pressed. Ulaz paused, not hesitating, but choosing his words.

         “I released you before your rehabilitation could take place,” he explained.

         “You think if you had brought me back to pit fighting health, there would have been more?” Shiro frowned deeper.

         “So, when will we have the location.” Keith’s mind was on to the next practical step, and Shiro found his frown lessening, watching him take charge.

         “It’s not any of the usual encryption patterns we’ve broken before. This isn’t military. It’s taking more time than anticipated.” His face twitched in an unusual show of impatience. Shiro’s smile became a little more noticeable. He reached out a hand. On instinct Ulaz took his forearm and Shiro returned the gesture.

         “Thank you, my friend. Your thoroughness and thoughtfulness are, as always, greatly appreciated.” Shiro’s other hand came up over Ulaz’s. He nodded solidly at him while they held the grip for a moment. Than Ulaz pulled away.

         “If that’s all for now,” Shiro said, putting his hands down to either side of himself on the edge of the bed, ready to push off. He didn’t need to be in any sort of medical facility, even one as bright and friendly as The Castle’s, for longer than necessary. Keith hopped up and started across the room and Shiro followed suit. Or at least he tried to.

        The next few moments happened in a jumble. Shiro stood, but before he even got to his feet, he felt like he was moving through something viscous. His foot was already going out to take a step before he could stop the motion. Something was wrong. His leg stopped, hitting his knee into something solid, except… he hadn’t run into anything. He could see his leg continue to move forward, but it wasn’t. He was so sure it stopped. He _felt_ the solid object pressing against his knee even as his foot continued moving ahead of him. The step faltered now that the leg had no belief in it.

        His senses were blurring before the visions even started overtaking his sight. He was caught, being pushed back into the bed, a solid grip on him he knew as Keith’s. No one else would handle him so roughly in that moment, secure and certain they could not possibly break him, even when he was so clearly already broken.

        Ulaz’s hand found his other shoulder, weighing him down. Between the two forceful hands on him he felt too grounded for the visions to disorient him too much. He felt more certain of where he was. His sight, though still fragmented and confused, seemed not to race as fast from bit to bit. He looked to one side and his vision pieced together into something almost congruous. A pod. The scene now in his periphery was still a jumbled mess, but the pod seemed united to most of his visions.

        Shiro closed his eyes tightly, squeezed them, and then opened them slowly. Turning his head, he tried to take in the chaotic collective ahead of him again. It was a wiggling strange almost vision, a metallic line and repeating patterns tried to come into focus. He reached forward. A hand came into view, crisp and certain in every sight, even as the rest blurred behind it.

         “Shiro. Shiro! Are you okay?”

        The frantic questions came slowly to him, oddly faint over a thick sound, like his head was underwater. He closed his eyes to focus. When he opened his eyes again he was staring at his hand, and beyond it, the Castle’s infirmary, crystal clear and singular.

         “SHIRO!” Keith’s shout was suddenly so loud and unfiltered that he jumped.

         “I’m fine!” he burst. He looked to either side and saw the concerned expressions, felt the worried fingers digging into his shoulders, Ulaz’s claws just short of breaking skin. “I’m fine,” he repeated more calmly. “I think… I think I saw something.”

         “Saw what?” Keith asked.

         “It was-well, I’m not sure. It looked something like a healing pod at least. I think I tried to walk just now and ran into the edge of the pod.” It was an odd thing to say, but he pressed on despite the troubled expressions. “The view out of the pod wasn’t clear, that was still a clusterfuck, but then I pulled my hand up,” he repeated the gesture, “and it was completely clear. Everything else was fuzzy around it, but my hand was even clearer than the side of the pod.”

        There was a confused silence at the explanation. Finally, Keith spoke up. “Could you tell where you were? Where the pod was, I mean?”

        Shiro shook his head, “It blurred when I tried to look out.”

         “No details?” Ulaz pressed.

         “There was a… maybe it was a railing,” he offered weakly, shrugging.

         “Ulaz,” Keith said. Ulaz was already nodding.

         “I’m on it,” he agreed. Keith and him, bonded as duel citizens of Voltron and The Blade of Marmora, nodded with the understanding of a lot more than Shiro was privy to.

         “I’ll just-,” Shiro started, but was met with two very stern expressions.

         “You’ll just stay put,” Keith snapped.

         “Keith, it’s when I get calm and relaxed that this happens,” he protested. Keith paused to consider this.

         “Desk work,” Keith said, suddenly. Shiro blanched at the thought. “It’ll be miserable and stressful and _necessary_ for the Coalition, so you’ll have no excuse to let your mind wander and relax.”

        Shiro cursed under his breath because, honestly, it sounded like it should work. That didn’t mean he had to like the plan. Ulaz was chuckling though, and if even Ulaz was amused, there was no point arguing. “Fine.” Shiro felt petulant and it certainly showed in his voice, because Keith looked like he was trying to hide some smug satisfaction.

 

        The busywork worked surprisingly well. The war effort was just enough of a mess, documentation wise, to keep Shiro constantly edging into stressed territory. He still had his duties to the Alliance Counsel, but the war was in enough of a lull as they played nice with the exiled prince come to power that Shiro would have had too much free time.

        It took just long enough to get news on Project 0304982, and the attacks were infrequent enough, that he had started to think of the whole thing as something that Future Shiro™ would have to deal with. Too soon for his liking, though, Shiro was in fact Future Shiro™.

        Keith came to gather him with a replacement in tow. He had apparently decided that Shiro would be dropping whatever task he was currently working on immediately, barely even letting him explain to the replacement what he’d been doing. He wheeled him around forcing him to give his parting instructions over his shoulder.

         “Ulaz just arrived with the information. We’re going to review it together and decide what we’ll do, or if we need to bring the others for the next step. Though, I’m sure if we are infiltrating, it will be better to go through the Blade, but that will all depend of how far from the front we’ll have to go and-.” Keith seemed more anxious for answers than Shiro, as he rushed them forward. He wasn’t sure the last time he saw Keith rambling this much.

         “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Lance,” he noted, a small smile on his face.

         “Yeah.” His rambling stopped dead. “Well. I was going to ask him to join us too. So, you can just deal with both of us scheming to _help you_.” He sounded defensive of both himself and Lance. Shiro snorted.

         “Go get him. I’ll find my way to the conference room and we’ll wait for you two,” he said, nodding. Keith nodded back, letting Shiro go and redirecting his powerwalk to gather up Lance.

        Shiro picked up his pace to get to Ulaz with as much time as possible before Keith and Lance arrived. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide anything from either of them (probably), but he certainly wanted to know what it was he wasn’t hiding.

        He slipped in and closed the door. As soon as he met eyes with Ulaz, he felt a little relieved. There wasn’t the heavy silence he’d come to know meant serious news from the Galra. Not that his expression was very different than usual, but they’d all learned to read the micro expressions of Ulaz over their time together.

         “What have we learned?” Shiro asked.

         “We have a location,” Ulaz summarized neatly. Shiro breathed and sunk into a chair.

         “That’s all?” he asked, not at all disappointed.

         “There are some details beyond that but no answers yet.” Shiro nodded, glad Ulaz had understood what he needed, the bare facts.

        As soon as Lance and Keith joined them, Ulaz explained what had been discovered in more detail. Searching for the project number elsewhere had brought them a more complete list of supplies, which Ulaz related to them, though he had claimed little could be confirmed other than it was a biomedical research facility, and if Ulaz couldn’t deduce anything further the rest of them had little hope. More important was the waypoint locations of the various shipments. Through it they were able to narrow their search and with the new context of a likely system, they could make an educated guess.

        Ulaz drew a clawed finger in a circle around a planet before tapping it, pulling it into closer view. “There is a known Galra facility here,” he said. He pulled up less than ideal images of an orbiting facility. It looked rather open to the elements, but the photo was too distorted to be very helpful.

         “Is this the only picture we have?” Keith asked.

         “The other pictures taken showed a false image, which explains why previous intel had claimed the base has been abandoned for some time,” Ulaz explained.

        Lance reached over and pulled the picture onto his datapad. He brought it right to his face to squint at it. “This is useless,” he said, handing it off to Keith, who took a turn squinting.

         “There are major military facilities, here,” Ulaz widened the map to point out troop activities in the next system over, “And here,” he added, showing a swath covering two other sides. “It isn’t a strategically important area, since the planets in this system were already scrapped, so we have left it unchallenged.”

         “So, we take a small group in,” Lance said, waving between himself, Keith, and Shiro. “And we take a look.”

         “Is it wise for him to go on the mission?” Ulaz asked, looking directly at Shiro.

         “Probably not,” Shiro agreed, before anyone else could argue with him. “But I’ll be going regardless.” Ulaz considered this a moment before nodding. There was clearly no point in arguing so he didn’t.

 

        The plans took a few weeks to set in order. The preparations kept him just the right amount of busy and stressed that he didn’t have any blurred visions or collapsing episodes. He did wake up nauseous now and again, but he had a hard time being certain it was related. He didn’t remember his dreams by the time he woke up enough to keep any thoughts in his head.

        When they set off, it was in the Black Lion. It was the only way the rest of the team would allow all three of them to go so far into enemy territory. The lion hummed with such a content aura that it felt more like purring when Shiro and the other two stepped in.

         “She likes you,” Keith noted absent mindedly.

         “Of course she does. We already knew that. _All_ the lions like me best,” Lance automatically replied, even if he knew the comment was for Shiro. In his defense, he had a right to be smug, he’d piloted three of the five lions.

        Keith opened his mouth to correct him but floundered. He ended up just closing it again, letting it be. Shiro chuckled. He felt the purr run through him and remembered that day so long ago that the mice had led him to the Black Lion. It had been hard to pass her up, but it had been the right choice to refuse then. It still was.

        If this mission found some way to help him, though. If he could be fixed, maybe… But no. Something in his heart told him that it wasn’t his place here. Voltron wasn’t his team to lead. He had other responsibilities. If this mission helped him, it would be freeing him to do his duty and protect Voltron, and the Coalition. That was what he was here to do.

 

        The trip in went smoothly. The military movements were minimal and with cloaking, curtesy of Pidge and Matt on all the Lions of Voltron, there was little risk of discovery. Pidge and The Blade had collaborated on a whole set of hacking devices for missions just such as these. And of course, their infiltration team got the newest models, fresh out of Pidge’s workshop.

        Lance took the lead, smoothly tossing and retrieving camera loopers as they moved. Keith scouted ahead with a tiny remote camera, a display pulled up from his bracer. He hadn’t used it before, but he was quick to pick up the new tech on the fly. Soon the two were moving forward, flawlessly complimenting each other. Shiro could hardly believe how far they had come in such a short amount of time. They used to just bicker and get in each other’s way, now they worked seamlessly together.

        Shiro, on the other hand, felt clunky next to the two Marmora trained infiltrators. At least he had the step mufflers Pidge had given them all, though he noticed that Keith hadn’t even bothered putting his on.

        Keith paused, lifted his arm and made a slight hand gesture. Lance picked up the message instantly and slid to the side, waving Shiro to follow suit. Keith let the little camera move around the corner, invisible save for the slight glint when it turned. He pulled the small screen up in front of them, spreading his fingers apart to widen the view. There were four robotic sentries walking down the next corridor just beyond. Any of them remaining online for more than a few moments after an attack started would set off an alarm. Their goal was right in the midst of their patrol routes, there’d be no sneaking around this group.

        This was more in Shiro’s scope. He pointed to the furthest back and gestured to Lance, who nodded. Then indicated Keith take the one turning off to the left of the others. The last two he could take since they were moving towards their position. They agreed and Shiro pulled up a hand, eyes on the screen waiting for their positions to be right.

        When Shiro dropped his hand, they moved at once.

        Lance sprung out to take aim while Keith smoothly darted around the front two sentries to catch up with his mark. As Lance’s shot hit the far target, Keith plunged his dagger into the perfect spot to disable alarms in his own. Shiro wasn’t as graceful as either of the other two, but he made up for it in brute force. His Galran arm sliced clean through the torso of one, leading straight to a grip on the second’s head. With a horrible cracking of metal and severing of wires, he pulled the head clean off, finger marks dented into the metal skull.

        The two were staring at him when he looked up. Then Lance’s face lit up.

         “I forget how terrifyingly badass you are. Please come with me on more missions,” Lance whispered, a grin on his lips as he listened to the alarm channels. Keith was hiding his own grin by busying himself collecting the sentries to stash out of the way.

         “Clean kills,” Lance reported quietly with a little fist pump. He came by, claiming a silent high-five from both of them as they filed into a room with a handful of computer terminals.

        Keith and Lance worked together to use Pidges hacking ‘thingamajig’, a term Shiro was certain Keith had picked up just to annoy Pidge. Shiro kept watch, sending out his own little camera to buzz through the base and check for guards heading their way. Gliding through the halls, he remembered the distorted recon pictures. Curiosity got the best of him. After double checking that their position was secure, he directed the camera to investigate. He followed a sentry on their patrol to catch as they went through a heavy door out into the open portion of the facility.

        The rush of nausea hit him before he could process what he was looking at. The image on the little screen tried to whirl and jump, even though he knew the camera was stationary. His brain _wanted_ it to be moving. When the screen wouldn’t tip, he started to instead. He reached out with his Galra arm to grab the door frame, but it didn’t feel like the arm connected, or like he had an arm there at all. He didn’t care, though, because he realized he’d seen this before. He’d seen the open sky, the railing around the sweeping walkways, lined with row after row of… pods.

        His mind raced to pull up every memory he’d collected in chaotic fragments. As if sensing his mind grasping at the memories, the eyes started opening again, but this time things didn’t spin in a blur. He was putting the disjointed visions together now that he had some idea of what it was creating. His head ached at the effort, but he _understood_. Piece by piece it started to fit together. When he’d finished he was exhausted but was left with a sense of accomplishment and a 360 of the whole area.

        Alarms were going off. Keith shot around, leaving Lance to the computer work. He spotted Shiro slumped forward, arm on the door frame squeezing fingerprints into it. He rushed forward to grab him. Shiro blinked slowly, as Keith pried him away from the door and forced it closed, a challenge with the newly malformed frame.

         “Keith-,” he started, but when he took his next breath in, he felt like liquid rushed in with it, thick and syrupy. He sputtered and coughed on reflex. The hands on him tightened. He couldn’t stop choking on nothing, even as air got to his lungs. He tried to indicate for Keith to look at the screen, so he could understand. Unfortunately, he was too busy looking at _him_ and pulling up his own surveillance camera, posted just outside the door.

         “They… don’t seem to be taking the alarm very seriously,” Keith noted quietly. Shiro’s vision was dwindling back down to one. He focused on the tight grip on his forearm, just above the Galra arm. He remembered it existed, he flexed his fingers. He tried to reclaim his lungs next, taking in deep breaths and forcing himself to know it was air.

         “I don’t think I triggered it,” Lance replied in a whisper just barely audible from the other side of the room. He continued to babysit Pidge’s program, making sure it got what they needed. Not that Pidge Tech often needed much watching over. It was largely self-sufficient after she’d committed to integrating some Galra based AI she’d repurposed.

         “No one’s rushing towards our position,” Keith agreed. “They look like they’re going… outside.” He finally looked back to Shiro. He relaxed when he found him holding himself up on his own and looking lucid again. “You okay?”

        Shiro took a long even breath to confirm it himself first, then said, “We have to go outside.”

         “That is literally where all of the guards are going,” Keith protested.

         “We have to get out there,” Shiro repeated. Keith was about to ask why, but Shiro pulled up the little screen of his camera. “I’m outside.” His voice sounded so calm, and it took him a minute to realize he was _feeling_ calm too. He was probably delaying his panic for a more suitable time. That was fine. He’d deal with it later.

        Keith stared, blinked, leaned in to look closer, blinked again. He swallowed and glanced at Shiro to let him lead the response. Shiro was so calm, it seemed to force the fear in Keith’s eyes to subside as well. He pulled his shoulder’s straighter and turned to Lance. “We have to get out to the open portion of the facility.”

         “Why? This terminal seems like it has access to all the files on the station.” Lance hadn’t looked up yet. Keith took the camera’s feed and sent it to Lance with a flick of his wrist. It popped up in front of his face. His head snapped around, wide eyed.

         “Wha-fu-What?” The words stumbled out of his mouth in a rush of confusion.

         “That’s what I’d like to know.” Shiro’s voice came out perfectly even.

 

        Lance and Keith found the fastest and safest route out. Luckily, the staff on the base was small, and the alarm didn’t seem to have anyone in a particular state of alert. ‘ _Because they’ve seen you open your eyes before’_ Shiro thought to himself. Every time he had a vision he’d probably set off the alarms here, and it’d happened often enough over the past year or so, it probably wasn’t a big deal anymore.

        Lance was having a hard time keeping quiet, questions continuously popping into his head, and he didn’t seem able to restrain himself from asking them. He started whispering them at every pause.

         “What _are_ those?” “Did you know they were here?” “Wait, were they all missing an arm too?” “Are they robots? Or cyborgs? Are they _clones_?” he rattled off. Shiro didn’t _have_ an answer to any of it.

         “Lance. Shut up,” Keith hissed at him. Lance looked offended for a moment, but then glanced at Shiro and made a silent ‘O’ of realization.

         “It’s fine,” Shiro said, softly. It was just a listing off of every other question that was already swimming around his head. “I’m fine,” he added, patting Keith’s shoulder. He wasn’t really sure what constituted ‘fine’ in this context, but he was in control at least.

        The alarms had quieted by the time they got there. Shiro stopped short before the door. The other two bickered in quiet whispers until they’d agreed on the best course of action for entering the open area. They then turned to Shiro, who was just working on keeping his breathing even, that delayed panic considering coming out, but he stamped it down.

         “Are we clear?” he asked, his voice low and thankfully even. Keith and Lance gave an affirmative and they stepped out.

        The vastness of the facility seemed so strange to him. He wondered what this had been before it was converted into the housing unit for… whatever Project 0304982 was. He stared out over the walkway rungs to the far side, where the tanks were so far off, he could pretend he didn’t know what the blurred figures were. He ignored the gasps and mutters behind him.

        Shiro’s head pulsed dully, like the coming of another vision, but slower, a warning. He took a deep breath and turned, deliberately ignoring whatever expressions might be on Keith and Lance’s faces.

        Tanks lined the edges of the walkways, feeling endless as he scanned them. His heart rate was picking up as his eyes trailed over more and more versions of… him. Peacefully sleeping. He stepped closer as the throbbing spread. His face had been replicated right down to the scars, a slash over his nose, and one cutting back over the side of his temple. He couldn’t look away. He’d dissociated looking in the mirror before, and yet he couldn’t separate himself from the Shiro in the tank in front of him.

         “Shiro…”

         “Dude are you okay?”

        The voices sounded distant, his hearing muffled by whirling electronics reaching him through liquid. He blinked. The eyes opened in his mind again. He watched Lance start away from the tanks from every angle around the facility at once. Keith moved towards him, cautious, tense.

        Shiro raised his hand, the human one, the one not missing from every version of himself, tank after tank. He felt the resistance of the liquid. The hands raised in a ripple out from him and around the facility. The other two turned to watch, but he didn’t have to. A sound that might have been alarms barely reached his ears. His hand pressed forward until it reached the glass. They all stopped except the one that had nothing to run into. He centered himself around that one, _that_ Shiro. The other hands drop slowly, limply returning to their sides.

        A hand gripped his shoulder. He turned his head, but this time instead of mimicking the movement, the other heads pivoted, focusing on Keith. The grip tightened convulsively on his shoulder as all the eyes turned on him. Keith was talking. The watery sounds faded as he grounded himself with the fingers tightly clasped on his shoulder. Those were the ears he needed to use.

         “-ro, we need to move. They’ll be coming out again for the rounds after the alarm.”

        He was right. The level below already had an operator lazily coming back out. A few hard thumps echoed back to him hazily from a tank below. An unenthused Galran face leaned in to stare at him. Their mouth moved in a condescending manner, griping, if their expression was any indication of their mood.

        Shiro closed his eyes. The vision around the room faded, then disconnected. “Okay,” he said, even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “Okay,” he repeated sternly to himself. When he did, he was looking at just Keith’s face. He was holding his whole expression so rigid, Shiro almost wanted to laugh. It might have been the relief washing over him that he hadn’t puked, or that he had some sort of answer, even if it only brought on a hundred more questions. He felt oddly light. He was sure it was temporary, but he’d take it for now.

        Lance was fluttering around behind them, prepping their retreat while Keith saw to Shiro. He felt a flutter of pride that beat out any guilt he might have for being a liability on this mission. He was _proud_ that two cadets from the Galaxy Garrison could take charge so easily. He wanted to tell them all that, but for now Lance was saying they had to move, so he moved.

        The throbbing in his temple receded back to a passive ache, but the alarms were now clear to his ears. It was lucky the alarms got the same lackadaisical response as the first time. It gave them time to make their way back into the facility. It also disrupted the patrols just enough to make their escape a breeze.

 

        The files they had gathered didn’t take long to be cracked, not after they explained what they’d seen. The entire team was instantly buzzing with theories, but any real answers were waiting on the Holts. Pidge and Matt worked together and had it done in under an hour.

        The moment Pidge stood up and started speaking, a hush fell over the group.

        The projects mission statement was summarized as: take ‘the Champion’ and make it into a weapon. He had showed promise in the pits and if he were properly broken, he could be useful as a ground force. The methods of weaponizing him were not so clearly laid out. The lack of guidelines had apparently created a free for all among the research and development teams. The list of proposed sub-projects was impressive, though only a few had any indication of being greenlit.

        Ulaz recognized his own project (0304658), focusing on the Galra tech replacement arm. _Proj.Blk.0304982_ was the next, listed as ‘Partial Completion’, indicating a research hiatus. If there were details into the actual experimentation, Pidge didn’t give them in her summary. She did, hover, list the stated goals of the project. They were to create a force where a new soldier could seamlessly replace the last, could coordinate attacks without excessive training or coms, and was receptive to Galra intergraded tech.

         “It says some BS about humans having inferior brains,” Pidge went on waving a hand dismissively as Lance broke his serious silence to give an outraged exclamation. “ _Apparently_ ,” she went on, “we have a similar region to many psychic species, though highly ‘underdeveloped’. That made humans ‘exploitable’.”

         “So… Shiro’s psychic?” Hunk’s question had the entire team turning to Shiro.

         “No…” he said slowly. “Things get… staticy now and again but I can’t read minds or anything.”

         “You _do_ talk to the mice,” Allura reminded.

         “It’s not really talking,” he corrected.

         “Well, your brain is underdeveloped,” Coran reminded, nodding thoughtfully.

         “Hey,” Matt snipped. Coran waved him off, saying he meant psychically speaking. Bickering small talk spread through the group until Pidge cleared her throat sharply.

         “SO,” she said loudly, getting them back on track. “The report says he would be able to connect with similarly enhanced humans, i.e. the clones-”

         “So, they’re clones?” Lance cut in.

         “Yes, they’re clones,” she confirmed quickly. “He would be able to connect with them and react to psychic influences more readily than normal humans. It could then carry through to all the clones. It sounds like it shouldn’t ‘turn on’ the connection without an outside influence though,” Pidge muttered, flipping back through data.

         “What do you mean outside influence…” Keith asked, speaking up for the first time. He’d kept a serious silence, as he digested the information.

         “Well, this was all under Haggar’s command, so I assume she had some plan with that, but I’m preeetty sure we blew her up,” Pidge said.

         “Are we really sure though?” Lance asked, worry lacing the edges of his expression as he shot glances at Shiro.

         “Well, no but…” Pidge started, but was interrupted.

         “She’s all- Poof! Shwoom! Magic!” Hunk said with a series of hand gestures to express each exclamation, ending in wiggling, magical fingers.

         “We don’t know if Haggar’s gone,” Allura said sternly, “But-,”

         “It started after I flew the Black Lion.”

        Everyone turned to Shiro again. “When we defeated Zarkon. When I-when _we_ were in the other plane,” he looked to Allura, who nodded seriously. “Maybe that… jarred something.”

         “Did your psychic abilities kick up a notch after that, Allura?” Matt asked.

         “No, nothing that I noticed at least…” She sounded disappointed.

         “Yeah, I imagine that’s because no one cracked open your head beforehand,” Shiro said softly, but he couldn’t hide the petulant undertone.

         “True…” she said more gently, setting a hand on his forearm as means of apology.

         “So, you woke up your clones because you’re all psychically attuned now.” Pidge was pulling up her data pad again. “This project file hasn’t been updated with any new goals or information since Zarkon was defeated,” she went on. “No major communications, no new orders, no new research data, all the deliveries have been routine. Hell, they don’t even allow staff rotation it looks like.” That at least explained the low morale at the station.

         “Then the question is,” Ulaz cut in, “does Lotor know.”

        They all turned to the Galra. He had been leaning on the wall in the back with Keith, but he stepped forward now. “The Blade operatives found no knowledge about this project even in the sensitive documents retrieved directly after Zarkon’s fall. It’s possible Haggar did not record her projects through any official channel. Lotor might not even be aware of the facility.”

        There was a long thoughtful silence.

         “It’s not a strategically important sector.” Lance finally said. “He might not dispute a local resistance group taking it back over. He’s been trying to play it cool, acting like he’s not a tyrannical dictator or something,” he scoffed.

         “He _has_ been cooperative,” Hunk agreed.

         “And then what do we do?” Matt asked.

         “What do you mean? We take the facility and…” Lance paused. “Oh… yeah.” He turned to Shiro. “What do we do with… them?”

        Shiro stared as all the eyes were on him once again. It seemed like a ridiculous question to pose to _him_. He felt it should be up to the Coalition Council or at least someone more knowledgeable. Just because they had his face didn’t make them _him_. But then he remembered the feeling of opening all of the eyes at once, of fingertips that weren’t his own pressing to glass. He blinked away his headache.

        “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But the sooner we remove them, the less likely it is to draw attention to the sector.” He didn’t know what they’d do with them after, but he was certain of one thing, he wanted them out of the hands of the empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Part 2, in which Keith goes on a date??? Oh yeah and we figure out what to do with a few hundred psychically linked Shiro clones or whatever.
> 
> Part 2 should be lighter, goofier, and shorter (it also might take a bit to get around to with some projects due before the end of the year at work and travelling for the holidays). In the mean time, feel free to check out [my other AUs](https://archiveofourown.org/series/866496)!! (Currently working on [the Road Trip AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079651)) I'd love to hear what you guys think! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


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